


Sinister Sundown

by KaneNogami



Series: The Dawn Trio [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Slowly but surely turning into horror for some reason, messed up kids trying their best, went from fun adventure to we are running away from our problems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2020-02-23 20:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18709792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaneNogami/pseuds/KaneNogami
Summary: To no one's surprise, their journey is an utter disaster. It grows from a meager attempt at escaping responsibilities to something they can't barely handle. Oh, at the start, the trip is a delightful distraction, until they start to run in circles, avoiding some questions and repeating others to the point of voices rising so loud they can't hear anything. Ienzo is certain it must be hilarious to the universe. Three broken kids, unable to cope with whatever they were, pushing back months of progress by wanting to prove they're strong enough. No, that's not true. He is Ienzo, ghost, monster, and human. All at once. He has a heart and it beats in an unsteady rhythm as worlds go by one after another.-In which consequences are hard to ignore and choices have to be made.At least they are together, to the end.





	1. Awful start

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, the second part of The Dawn Trio! I strongly suggest reading the first part before this one, or else nothing will make sense I fear. I hope this first chapter's good. I have completely disregarded canon in the first part, and I'm fine with going on a completely different path honestly.

To no one's surprise, their journey is an utter disaster. It grows from a meager attempt at escaping responsibilities to something they can't barely handle. Oh, at the start, the _trip_ is a delightful distraction, until they start to run in circles, avoiding some questions and repeating others to the point of voices rising so loud they can't hear anything. Ienzo is certain it must be hilarious to the universe. Three broken kids, unable to cope with whatever they were, pushing back months of progress by wanting to prove they're strong enough. No, that's not true. He is Ienzo, ghost, monster, and human. All at once. He has a heart and it beats in an unsteady rhythm as worlds go by one after another. They feel washed out somehow, as if colors belonged only to people more fortunate.

 

_Sora,_ people say, the name coming out before even a hello, _is such a great friend_.

_Have you seen him?_

 

Sora, Donald and Goofy.

Ienzo keeps poison off his tongue, opting for disinterested nods instead. What's the point in telling them about adventures they didn't participate in? Jealousy is a dangerous master, darkness always lurking close. That's the part Ienzo is fine with. As if he would ever consider himself a guardian of light! He is—some sort of in-between, tucked safely in the shadows. He walks aimlessly around worlds where they isn't anything else to do, putting seashells in his pockets and wondering how it would have been, not to unleash terror onto the universe.

 

Worlds lack graveyards to represent the catastrophe. Instead, they whisper about people still missing, tugging on the end of their sleeves, tricking themselves into believing loved ones will return. That's a lie. Everything is.

 

Ienzo cannot deal with genuine happiness yet. It brings out too many _what if_ at once. He'd rather avoid mirrors forever and never face his demons completely. So, he lures in the darkness of the ship, when they camp in the wilderness at night, sleeping on a mattress to avoid his companions. Antagonizing Lea and Kairi is—it feels like a habit, which is so wrong. His precious friends are there, and all he wants is for them to be gone.

 

Lea's laughter is so fake, as they hear stories of monsters destroying homes and snatching lives away. _Oh yes, you were involved, he wants to throw at him. Your beloved friend sent you, in the same way I watched hearts being removed with bare hands. The sole difference is that one of us ordered this, the other merely endured such choices._ The first times, Kairi steps between them, trying to diffuse the situation. As time goes by though, she simply starts to send them on separate way, as if it was her role to care for everyone.

 

On the day where she realizes she's doing exactly what she loathes the most, she stops. Ienzo cannot pinpoint when everything has gone sour. He supposes it's when they started to become strangers abroad the same ship rather than friends. Who were they kidding? Traveling without a goal, following footsteps of people they have lost long ago—which kind of foolish child dream is that?

 

They contemplate the sky from different parts of the same world, walking aimlessly without ever crossing paths. Ienzo has no idea of what they are doing. He's a lost cause after all, ex murderer turned into nothing at all, but with a beating heart. They are heroes, supposed to fight in the battle of the century one day. And what are they doing? Running away, ignoring keyblade masters awaiting for their return, barely sending signs they are alive to be left alone. How long can this drama afford to run? How long has it been already? Weeks? One month or two?

 

The weirdest thing is that Ienzo has no regret.

If he has to choose where he'd rather lose himself, it shouldn't be Radiant Garden.

 

Here, lost in the galaxy, he's Ienzo, nothing more. It's more convenient than bearing the title of youngest apprentice, the one they couldn't save. How sick he is of being reminded of that. Can't they think of him as evil, a nonsensical monster turning his best friends to darkness, only because he can. He'd appreciate that a lot more than whatever the truth is.

 

 

“We need to leave this system, go farther.”

 

Kairi's voice wakes him one morning. She's staring at her mug filled with tea, avoiding what could be a confrontation. Ah, he's not that mean, he wouldn't unleash something cruel on her for no reason.

 

( _He has, before._

_Lea was pissing him off.)_

 

“We're runaways, they'll find us if we stay.”

 

“Oh, are we runaways now? I thought we were meant to be adventurers,” he sounds so strained, throat parched from countless terrible nights in a row. He sits up, blanket falling off and leaving the cold to run inside his bones.

 

“Don't be like this, please.”

 

He loves when she says that. _Please_ coming from Kairi is a plea, an excuse for the person to cut her throat open and turn her silent forever. Where are these thoughts coming from? He was doing so much better—only for the world to crash down around them. Everything might disappear if they do not return in time. Why can't he care?

 

“May I ascertain how far you intend on dragging us?”

 

Ienzo pretends the conversation is casual, even if it's the opposite. Tucking hair between his ear, he watches her glance at the scar without reacting. Ah, at least there is some relief, hidden under nightmares. He'd still follow her, that's the funny part. Even if she drags them to the edge of the universe, gummi ship sinking into darkness, Ienzo doesn't think he'd leave her behind to survive.

 

Pushing the blankets, he makes space for her on the mattress, as if they didn't have dozen of days filled with shouts and arguments behind them. Kairi doesn't hesitate, sitting by his side. She would have, before. Only for a second, eyes drifting towards the possibilities. That's odd, how close they are while being so far apart.

 

“Following Sora and Riku won't bring us anything. So, let's—do more.”

 

She's their leader, isn't she? Had to build her own trio from scratch, a little late thus only defective pieces were left. Where's Lea, by the way? Ienzo doesn't ask, certain he'll appear at some point. Ah, he trusts them, still.

 

“Wasn't it our plan from the start? Explore, turn ourselves into heroes, become _something_.”

 

“That's a complete failure.”

 

“Indeed!”

 

She elbows him, hands not free to do anything else. She's wearing band-aids everywhere on her fingers, thus Ienzo guesses she is training on her own once more. Such a strong magic user! Yet, she seems to focus on physical strength above everything else. Ah, they are contradictory, always have been. His lexicon hasn't returned yet, to the point Ienzo doubts it'll do anytime soon. Unless, of course, he opts to turn into Zexion again. Hm, getting lost forever in the void sounds much more enticing!

 

“Is this a fucking war council?”

 

Here he is. Their shining warrior with his ponytail and fierce green eyes. Ienzo waves, aware of how tense they are in presence of each other. He misses—ah, he doesn't even know what has gotten lost between them. That's disheartening.

 

“Sure, in our pajamas, so early in the morning. The most perfect time of the day to decide if we are going to cut your head off for insubordination.”

 

Ah, he sounds like a brat. One quite knowledgeable on old ways to murder people though. The mattress is invaded by a giant, much to his dismay. He finds himself stuck between his friends, far from being at ease. At the castle, Ienzo was easier to deal with, he supposes. It was familiar, here if he goes overboard, there is nothing to indicate it outside of people raising their voice.

 

“Did you bring breakfast?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Kairi is quick to disregard her mug on the floor, elbow pressing against Ienzo' shoulder as she tries to reach for the goods. His old bones! He remains still no matter how he wants to complain, because that's the warmest they have behaved in such a long time. He remembers, bitter, when they tried to train together, without a master to guide them. Turn out pent out frustration can be a deadly weapon. Friendly banter was quick to turn into violent competition, so they stopped.

 

“Here.”

 

Once Kairi has released him, chewing happily on something—which might be edible, Ienzo can stare at the thing on his lap without much interest.

 

“It seems…”

 

“It's a croissant, eat it.”

 

“A soggy croissant, then.”

 

“I got soaked for your ass, so you better eat it or I'll shove it into your mouth myself.”

 

Is it raining? Droplets are running down above them, dark clouds not bringing much light into the cockpit. Oh, he didn't even notice. It explains why Lea is so grumpy though. Or perhaps it's weeks of not getting along, who knows.

 

“So aggressive. Is this a reconciliation?”

 

“It better be!” Kairi snarls. “You have been moping around each other for weeks.”

 

“Bold words from someone who was doing exactly the same.”

 

They snatch the croissant from his hands with an impeccable timing, indeed shoving it right into his face. A shame it's not enough for Ienzo to suffocate. He'd like to remain alive for a while, honestly. While he tries to remove crumbs off his clothes, the croissant remains between his teeth, on the verge of falling down on the mattress. He'd rather not clean he ship again, especially as no one else can be bothered to do so.

 

“We've been complete asses. All of us,” Lea grumbles, turning the paper bag used to carry their breakfast into a tight ball. One he throws against the console of the ship, fueled by a constant death wish. If they break this, they'll be stuck there forever, which would be terrible.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Maybe~”

 

“Ienzo we can lock you outside if we feel like it. In the pouring rain.”

 

“And damage a perfectly good, albeit humid, croissant? I don't think so, Kairi.”

 

Words come out against his will, in a way he can't explain. He has to bring something into the conversation, to call them out on their bullshit while doing the same towards himself somehow. Highly illogical, their problems won't vanish within minutes. Healing is not a straight path, especially considering they are a bunch of issues piled together. Taking time! Talking about their emotions! Finding great ways to cope!

 

Apparently, they're stuck with sleeping in weird forests and Lea taking two hours to find a village or town with a bakery. That's still an improvement over that time where they tried to eat mushrooms by deciding they were likely to be safe as similar to ones from their home world.

 

His insides still remember the following days.

 

If only it could be his only memory gone wrong.

He would gladly suffer from stomachaches for a lifetime, instead of being surrounded by pitiful ghosts he created by being filled with greed and nonsense. What are they doing? The question is familiar, always coming out each time they attempt anything. As if failure was the only possibility, a refuge for these unable to become anything more than damsel in distress and ex-murderers. He rubs at his scar with the back of his hand, chewing on the disastrous gift. He doesn't like croissants, missing the comfort of ice cream and cookies eaten in the middle of the night.

 

“Yen Sid warned us, before we planned our escape. Something about darkness creeping close to us, as if we didn't already know about that shit. What are we supposed to be? Heroes of light? It doesn't feel right. And being stuck there is even worse. So whatever the plan is, I'm in.”

 

How fantastic, to hear Lea voicing his resolve. A shame Ienzo has barely enough strength to nod along.

 

“The goal is clear then, we'll go as deep as we can into the galaxy. Until we find a purpose.”

 

_Or death._

This times, he does keep his mouth shut.

That doesn't sound too bad. Although neither did following Xehanort back then. Ienzo shouldn't be allowed to make too many decisions on his own, it's going to get him into something even worse one day.

 

What if they fall?

Would they manage to get back onto their feet without anybody rescuing them?

He hopes so.

 

Dying another time would be disappointing. He has accumulated enough trauma for a lifetime, thank you. Why is he so obsessed with this prospect? It's not normal, his brain has always been running in circles, that's true. Not to such extend though. Suddenly, everything is bland, food tasteless as he chews on the remains of breakfast.

 

“If I never return, no one will care. Don't get me wrong, the apprentices would be—something, a hint of sadness, anger perhaps—you two, however, are part of the rebirth of this universe. You have no choice but to stand by your friends' side to keep everything together.”

 

It's a reminder they could do without. One Ienzo has to offer them nonetheless. What if they forget, if he leads them astray like he did with everyone else in his life?

 

“I'd say,” Kairi leans against him, red hair tingling against the crook of his neck, “we are standing by our friend' side right now, right?”

 

“Yeah, we're on our own, together.”

 

How silly. They do not realize consequences will weight to heavily on their shoulders they won't manage to ever get back up.

 

“We do need to chill a little,” Lea adds, “like, I don't think we should hang together all the damn time. It's—pissing us off easily. Or completely run to hide into the woods or to the nearest beach when our conversations go sour. Why do we do this anyway?”

 

“Inappropriate ways to cope.”

 

“Sounds shitty, if you ask me.”

 

“I wasn't.”

 

“Shut up, Ienzo.”

 

“Sure, sure.”

 

The universe could end while they are sitting there, blankets wrapped around their shoulders as the rain shows no sign of stopping. That's far from being fine, the way bones and hearts ache. Although Ienzo can't bring himself to care. For the first time since they departed on their journey, they aren't arguing over meaningless things. That's why he won't ruin this.

 

 

      Their brand new clothes have started to feel old in the blink of an eye, akin to armors dulled after one hundred fights. They still wear them, perhaps with a glimpse of pride in their eyes, as they depart this world on the same day. Poor planning decisions and no impulse control, that's all they have. While they refuse to destroy their communication devices, they do turn them off for a while. Completely cutting off their link with Radiant Garden would mean a search rescue. The last thing they need right now is to be tracked and retrieved by force.

 

Which worlds are hidden from sight, so deep they haven't been found yet? Ienzo has scientific knowledge of countless topics, although space is so vast he doubts anyone knows enough about it. That's better, to ignore some truths. He feels more human this way.

 

“Remember Kai, don't go too fast. The controls are sensitive,” which, from Lea, is a kind way to say 'please don't crash the gummi ship'.

 

She's becoming better, their rough pilot, even as she sticks her tongue out to Lea. Sure, she panics and makes harsh decisions. They always arrive alive in the end, thus Ienzo can deal with being shaken around like a bag of potatoes.

 

Safety belts are such a fantastic creation, he deeply cares for them.

 

Will a black hole appear during the journey, devouring them and leaving nothing behind? Ienzo taps his fingers against the armrest for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts as they should be. Friendship won't cure them of what they went through, no matter how they'd like to believe otherwise. It's a game of one step forward, two steps back, something a little heavy to bear.

 

“How big is space?”

 

“It goes as far as you can imagine, I suppose!”

 

“So if our imagination is endless, we can never be found?”

 

This would have been a relief, when they were children. All three of them, vanishing from sight. Kairi sounds so hopeful all of a sudden, prompting Ienzo to wonder if she has been suffering in silence again. Probably. Writing letters to one self doesn't take away everything. He hopes it lessens her mind a little at least. Not feeling like joining the conversation, he lets them talk, closing his eyes. Ienzo isn't keen on imagining what the universe should be like.

 

After all, he's the one who can turn nightmares into reality.

 

 

      They drift by familiar points, radar indicating them one after another until it starts making less and less sounds. Hours pass by slowly, collisions avoided by making his stomach complain as Kairi rushes through everything. Are they truly escaping everything? It doesn't sound right.

 

Maybe it'll work out!

Ah, who are they kidding. Fate will make them pay.

 

Worlds have started to fade behind them, turning into blurry memories they will put behind for a while. The conversation died down hours ago, and Ienzo hopes he hasn't missed anything important. They tend to repeat themselves a lot, or to misunderstand things, so he shouldn't worry too much about details.

 

It seems, he notices while stretching his arms, that they have reached an empty space, nothing but debris floating around. Might be a separation between what they know and everything else. They have been traveling for almost a whole day already, and if they do not find a place to rest soon, Kairi will have to relent her place. It's definitely not great for her to push herself like she does, to prove that she deserves to lead them. As if they weren't aware of that.

 

“Lea should drive a little.”

 

“I can handle it.”

 

“I'm aware. However, do you _want_ to?”

 

There is a pause, Lea not daring to add anything to the conversation. Of course, he could drive for a while, but there is no point in removing Kairi against her will. That wouldn't make her trust them at all, even if fatigue is not recommended, and even dangerous. That's why Ienzo makes a face at the oldest, before focusing his gaze back on the stars surrounding them.

 

“Not really,” she admits eventually.

 

 

A deserted world welcomes them for the night. A big rock floating, devoid of life. Ienzo doesn't want to claim it's a shell of something which once was a living place, although the remains of trees scattered all around where they landed are a good indicator of what happened. Kairi crashes almost immediately in the tent, leaving Ienzo relieved she understood she couldn't go on forever. They should schedule breaks and such—tomorrow.

 

A yawn comes out, treacherous, causing Lea to smirk at him. They have been playing cards for a while now. An excellent way for Ienzo to practice his powers. Switching cards from one another when he feels like it, layering illusions on top of each other until Lea catches on what he has been doing. Oddly, there is no scream this time around, no argument.

 

“You're a bastard,” Lea says, fondness in his tone.

 

Ienzo won't disagree.

 

 

     As usual, supplies have been badly counted before leaving. Which means they have to switch to canned food meant for emergencies after a couple of days. Ienzo doesn't complain most than necessary, which means he unleashes long speeches about the necessity of planning beforehand until they swear to forget him on the next rock they'll find. It's not perfect. Tensions arise, although they try to manage them. Isolating oneself for a while, trying to voice what's wrong. The second almost never works for Ienzo, much to his dismay. Words do not arise at the right time, nor in the appropriate way.

 

They seek a place to land for longer than one night, wondering if there is truly no viable world past this point. It wouldn't make sense, honestly? Sure, there is a distance between the light and this place, yet it shouldn't mean nothing can exist.

 

Ienzo starts writing, not caring much about his atrocious grammar or anything else. He puts down what they do each day, to keep track. Sometimes, they get calls, when they turn on their phones, lying or pretending not to understand through most of them. It's not a difficult job, especially for Lea and him. They have been raised this way. He starts to wonder if there is a possibility that the worlds (if they encounter some) will be drenched in darkness, thus a lot more dangerous than what they have seen until that point. Training opportunities.

 

He hasn't completely given up on getting his lexicon back, no matter what.

The good old call of power, how comforting.

 

“Hey, hey, look.”

 

Lea, forgetting about Kairi's poor driving tendencies, has decided to get up to point at something—dark. While Ienzo's vernacular could allow more accurate descriptions, that's the first word to cross his mind. The world appears to be wrapped in black clouds. Not the kind filled with thunder and rain. Merely a constant menace from above. One which makes the controls beep in fear once they get closer.

 

Due to a slight communication error, Kairi gets closer before Lea is back on his seat, not being aware he got up. Which leads to him tripping as soon as the start to descend, Ienzo barely managing to grab him at the last second.

 

Ending with Lea spread on his lap wasn't the plan though.

 

“So, you come here often?”

 

He is this close to push him back on the floor.

 

“Do not use terrible pickup lines on me, you sound like Braig.”

 

“I feel deeply insulted.”

 

“Can I drive in peace for one second, guys?”

 

Unlikely.

 

 

     To call the place a wasteland would be—kind. Plants have overgrown, only to die, remains scattered everywhere. It's difficult to take more than a couple of steps forward at once. There is a lingering impression of tragedy waiting to happen laying around. Death has invaded this place a long time ago, perhaps before any of them was born. It feels too intense—they shouldn't stay there. The perspective of going back into the ship and leave right away isn't enticing either, forcing them to move forward until they reach what seems to be an old mine.

 

Before Ienzo can suggest them to find something else to explore in the world, lanterns light up on each side of the entrance, revealing an old board sign on top of it.

 

_Land of what has been lost._

 

How delightful. Ienzo believes they should climb back abroad the ship, return to what their lives are meant to be (scientist and heroes of light) instead of getting murdered inside. He is meant to be a hero of darkness, as he claimed so proudly. Still, is there a reason to find what has been lost? He isn't eager to meet old memories head first, especially if they involve houses burning up or labs filled with screams. Shouldn't the other two feel the same way? Emotions are a chore Ienzo isn't sure he wants to deal with right now.

 

“It sounds more hopeful than it seems,” Kairi whispers.

Oh, is she craving to find her past after all this time?

She shouldn't, this world is obviously a trick. At best they'll get unpleasant memories, at worst—Ienzo doesn't want to dwell on it.

 

“Not like we have a choice, let's go in and improvise. We can handle anything, right?”

 

Lea might be talented at convincing himself, or suddenly blinded at the prospect of meeting Roxas again.

Ienzo, sole owner of the group braincell, has little choice but to follow them inside.

 

After all, they're friends.


	2. Land of what has been lost - Ienzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We stepped into horror really fast, I cannot explain how it happened. I did plan things to go quite wrong in this part, although not to such extend I suppose?  
> I'm fascinated by Ienzo's parents and what happened to them in this fic, for some reason. Also, thank you very much for your kudos and bookmarks! Don't hesitate to comment to tell me what you think of this chapter.
> 
> -
> 
> Ienzo is fucked, I guess~

     There aren't as many regrets as people expect from a monster, in Ienzo's heart. What he misses the most is merely his long lost weapon. He has always been more at ease with books, hidden from sight while his eyes could roam against the pages endlessly. The lexicon is different, as it's not something to get lost in, simply a comforting weight in his arms. A way to conjure whatever he wants without burning out his powers within seconds. The ones who died cannot be brought back, no use shedding tears over them any longer. His companions might feel differently, who knows.

 

Kairi does, at least. No one bothered reaching out to her about her forgotten memories until the ex-apprentices (sometimes he uses 'ex', sometimes it does not feel relevant, it's hard to decide) stepped in. That's pathetic, to let a little girl for dead for so many years without caring. He ponders over what they'll find, possibilities and dangers, as they step through narrow tunnels. Even in the way they bring light, they are different. Kairi grabbed a lantern, holding it in front of her, whereas Lea is simply using flames. They dance around his fingers as Ienzo remembers Vexen and an ending he didn't witness. There's the sound of his fist colliding against Lea's face, months prior. It brings so little comfort now. Back then though, it felt like crossing ten bridges at once, burning them behind without looking back.

 

Himself is using his phone to keep track on where he is going, trusting technology more than anything else in such moment. Science always makes sense, and it cannot lie. Unlike humans and their murderous tendencies.

 

As they progress farther in the tunnel, they notice signs on the walls. Some have fallen off, covered in dust, although they all read the same message.

 

' _Soon, Radiant Garden_ '

 

Hm, is it truly the place they seek? Ienzo keeps remarks to himself, the tension rising already enough as they walk. Oh, at worst they'll die in a terrible way, nothing else.

 

Light starts to pour in front of them, until they realize they have reached the end of their walk. Rather than being stuck in a cave, the improbable trio is standing in front of what could be Radiant Garden. Or another version of it, to be more accurate.

 

The discrepancy is everywhere in front of their eyes. Radiant Garden is meant to be lively, unlike what they are offered. Oh, he couldn't even compare the washed out walls, everything a different shade of brown, to Hollow Bastion. They were citizens running around, in the remains of their home. Here, it's empty, except for them. A grand show only for the terrible trio, something they are meant to explore until they cannot turn around any longer.

 

The most basic trap, prompting Ienzo to walk around the fountain devoid of water, trying to decipher how much around them is real. Is it an illusion, or did the world adapt to their heart? Either way, it's bad news. Everything about this place leaves him uneasy, which says a lot coming from someone who lived in a basement where people were experienced on for years. Obviously, the main goal is to stick together, although they will not even manage this.

 

As if pulled by an invisible strength, his companions start to depart in opposite directions, seeking what cannot be retrieved. Ah, he has to let them go, if only for a while. The dullness of this fake town has invaded his senses too, leaving him unable to run after either of his friends. Ienzo has never been talented at caring for people around him. Too much work with himself already. Once he's alone, the others out of sight, he notices the house standing where it shouldn't be. Hidden in a corner of the plaza, walls painted in black long turned gray, it would be hard not to recognize the precious home he burned down.

 

Apparently this devious world hasn't gotten the memo on that. Truly disappointing.

 

Hesitant, Ienzo sighs loudly, considering his options. He suspects the house will move from one empty space to another until he accepts to take a look inside. They are wrong, if they believe he has any feeling towards where his childhood died. Humanity is out of his grasp as corpses appear inside his mind, blurry silhouettes against the floor. Ah, he definitely isn't missing much by staying there. If it's a test though, he'd rather be done with it as quickly as possible.

 

After all, isn't he a quick learner, surrounded by scientists way over their head when he should have been loved like a normal child, spoon fed horror and cruelty? In retrospect, Ienzo is the bastard born in the shadows, therefore he doesn't fit the criteria for what a regular human should be either. He threads without much care, pushing the door open with his shoulder to stare at what was once his life.

 

The details are wrong.

He cannot recall what this place was like during the day, only nights resurfacing briefly, flashes of a distant past. That's where he murdered his parents, or perhaps illusions of them. There isn't much difference, he is aware of it as he closes the door behind him.

 

So, what's going to greet him? A fake cheerful scene, monsters hiding knives behind their back? Make it truly horrendous! Ienzo smirks, taking out a hair clip to ensure he'll see the enemy coming. The scar isn't much of a bother lately, he can deal.

 

He avoids remaining downstairs, going straight for his bedroom. Twenty steps, door on the left at the top of the stairs. How brilliant, his mind is still stuck on old habits. There isn't much to find, outside of books everywhere and a small bed in a corner. No stuffed animal for comfort? He doubts his parents believed in any of this. Toys do not bring knowledge, you cannot get lost into their pages. As for joy? Who would care about such meaningless concept?

 

Sitting on the bed doesn't bring back anything he'd like to drag back with him. On the contrary, there is a heavy weight against his chest as he leans back until his back is resting against the wall. They care. Lea and Kairi. About their past. Although Lea would have gladly set his parents on fire like Axel did to Vexen, he had Isa. Their world was so small, stuck behind the walls of the citadel. It's a wonder how they survived so long before Ienzo and the apprentices got everyone killed out of boredom.

 

He glances at the covers, spaceships looking quite ugly out of all a sudden, only to spot his real treasure laying there.

 

“I do not appreciate this,” he muses out loud, not daring to touch the lexicon. That's the Land of what has been lost, not the one of what can be brought home, “could you not tempt me?”

 

The stillness around him is difficult to bear as he runs the tip of his fingers against the cover of the lexicon. The house is hostile to him, as it has always been. A prison hidden under the disguise of a refuge, discolored wallpaper and creaking wood under his feet not appropriate companions for a young child. Neither is the constant absence of light, curtains shielding him from the temptation of going outside. The more he ponders about it, the less Ienzo recalls ever leaving the house, even for walks. His world only existed between these walls, until they couldn't contain his monstrosity any longer. They survived lost in the middle of nowhere, certainly not around other creepy houses. Or else, Ienzo would have been forced to face fellow mortals. He did not get this chance until no one stood in his way any longer, that's a shame.

 

This macabre pile of bricks holds no control over him.

Even less when he's aware it's a disappointing copy of the original.

 

Of course, Ienzo could drag the lexicon against his chest for a while, without even opening it. Only to appreciate the weight of his sins resting so close. What would it bring, outside of more sorrow later on? He has to stop being such a spoiled child, tugging at the edges of reality until he turns the world into what he desires.

 

Trusting one self would be meaningless, as Ienzo will always crave destruction more than he should. He is quick to untangle himself from the bed, closing the door behind him to return into the hallway. Is the house as sentient as the real one was? He considers, for a short moment, using his powers to spark something terrible to life, only to see who would win. He could, although it would strain his mind considerably. He cannot afford that right now.

 

An array of literature greets him downstairs, in the library. Wasn't the house a library in itself? They walked around books, surrounding themselves with knowledge until it turned into a suffocating cohabitation; parents feeding their young child so many books he ended on choking on words, unable to swallow them all.

 

The wood of bookshelves should be rotten by now, hadn't he gotten rid of this macabre face years ago. He ignores portraits lining above the fireplace—what an odd room for one, everything could burn down within seconds—aware they won't represent anything worthy of his attention. Faces are distorted in his mind, unable to return to their initial appearance. If this world feeds on what remains and what used to exist, then he doubts it'll be able to fix this. He lingers around for a while, grabbing books only to pull them back one after another. Stories have faded, leaving many pages blanks. The limits of what this horrific place can do with his memories.

 

As he sits down in the large armchair his mother loved—or perhaps this too, is a made-up fantasy—Ienzo rubs at his eyelids with the back of one hand. The house might be trying to lure him into sleep, a false sense of security meant to strip him of his will and everything else. He refused its proposal though. What would it have unleashed, as a punishment for grabbing his lexicon?

 

Ienzo is fine with never learning more about that.

 

The dim light above him flickers, forcing him to blink. For a moment, a side of the room turns into a blur, as if his mind was showing two different visions at once. One is his childhood home, the other—curtains are lighter, floating gently as the wind blows through them. It's almost impossible to focus on either image, as they keep on pressing themselves into each other until the safest solution is merely to stop looking.

 

The young scientist is unable to do so.

 

He catches a glimpse, from the corner of his eyes, of a chessboard and silhouettes around it. One whose face keeps on shifting, leaving Ienzo with the beginning of a headache. The second is less tiring to look at, even if he is only greeted by their back.

 

“Is it pleasant, to be faced with a past you tried to burn down?”

 

He does recognize the voice—perhaps—something familiar yet leaving him uneasy. He cannot remember right now, thus there is no point in forcing his mind.

 

“I suppose I could have covered my tracks better than this, if one look inside my head is sufficient for this world to know so much. Are you the creator of this place?”

 

“Merely another unwanted guest. I doubt such tricks can work on people like us though. We have welcomed darkness enough to get rid of regrets.”

 

Ienzo could show annoyance at a stranger claiming to know about his emotions, especially as himself cannot tell them apart most of the time. He is under the impression that a strong reaction is what the person expects; an excuse to dig deeper into the past. He isn't going to fail for such mediocre tactic. The floor creaks as he steps forward, leaving the meager comfort of the armchair.

 

He doubts he'll get to see the stranger's face, nor get close enough to learn more.

 

“Are you winning?”

 

The board is so fuzzy he can barely tell where the pieces are. Honestly, focusing on it is causing a sharp pain behind his eyes by that point. As if he wasn't supposed to be in contact with whatever is happening in this second plane.

 

“Who knows? Difficult to tell before the end.”

 

His fingers are trembling as he manages to lift his arm. Only two steps forward and he'll be able to touch the stranger—

 

Except the person suddenly turns around, almost knocking the board over as they do so. There is a protest, muffled by the distance, from the second player. Ienzo doesn't hear it though.

 

His sole focus is on the golden eyes staring right back at him. The smirk on his lips—oh.

_Xehanort._

 

“I can't wait to meet you, Ienzo.”

 

The boy—that's what he is really, different face yet so youthful—grabs his hand, tugging him forward in a swift move.

 

And then, everything goes black.

 

 

     Calling what he wakes up with the headache of the century would be too kind. There is a storm raging inside his head. He presses his hands against his forehead, hoping it'll go away. It does not, forcing him to deal with the pain as he manages to sit up. It's exhausting, he isn't certain of being able to walk to the door. Is he still—oh yes, that's the library. There are remains of blood on the second armchair, leaving Ienzo confused until he realizes his hands are sticky. He must have hit it upon fainting. The head can bleed a lot without it being a catastrophe. Or so he hopes, as he doesn't fancy explaining why he died in such way.

 

The gash doesn't appear to be too bad, from what he can tell with his fingers. Although he needs to wash his hands before leaving, unable to stand the feeling against his skin. Mirrors were banned at some point, weren't they? He isn't certain. Either way, he has no reason to find one. Ignoring the pounding in his skull, he threads, carefully, towards where he remembers the kitchen to be.

 

He finds it humid, as if water had infiltrated the walls and floors. The air is too heavy to his liking and linoleum squeaks under his feet, only managing to piss him off further. At least water is running, allowing Ienzo to clean his hand and face. He sees himself, briefly, against the old window, his reflection paler than it should be. He doesn't waste time with such detail, too focused on what happened.

 

Xehanort, then. The younger version, prior—oh the whole continuity of events is a bit wonky—what happened in Radiant Garden. They must be around the same age, at that point. Ah, he hasn't hanged around another creature so close to himself for a long time. Not that he wants to actually see that person again. What is he even doing there? Spying on them? Or making sure the lights don't return home? Lea and Kairi won't opt to flee forever, it wouldn't make sense.

 

Where are they anyway? Oh, everything is spinning, leaving him with bile in his throat and a sudden need to sit down. Ienzo cannot afford to do so, barely drinking enough water to feel well enough to leave.

 

Footsteps echo above the kitchen before he has even left it. That's exactly what he'd like to avoid. More excuses for this sentient world to mess up with him. At least he didn't wake up in his bed, concerned parents leaning over him. It would have been terrifying, even for Ienzo' standards. Rubbing at the mark right against his scar, he tries to remain as silent as possible. As the house finally understood he is fine with leaving without trying to steal anything?

 

Must be boring.

 

 

      If the stairs weren't right in front of the entryway, Ienzo would sneak out without ever being caught. Fate has never been keen on letting him win without at least some trauma to make up for it, much to his dismay. He is still too far away from the doorknob when the voice resonates, filled with static.

 

(If only they knew he is still hears it sometimes, when he is close his eyes and skeletal fingers try to get his attention.)

 

“Are you abandoning us?”

 

“Perhaps, mother.”

 

It's more convenient to burn everything down and never look back. That's why he does not turn around, ignoring how difficult it is to remain steady with the injury still fresh.

 

Ienzo has never wept for his parents, as they follow no matter what, clinging as brief hallucinations, or whatever his powers offer, until they are imprinted into his skin. Mother dearest is difficult to push away, even as she wraps damaged limbs around him. Ah, if this world is meant to offer paradise, albeit to take it away right after, it apparently cannot beat Ienzo's mind. Between a skeleton and a living being, the woman refuses to let go, whispering sweet words against his ears. It's a good he isn't able to pay attention, or else she would shatter a heart he is still nursing back to life.

 

“You would left me? Us? Why?”

 

Couldn't she have been more human? A kind woman he would have played around with, soon joined by his father. They could have pretended to be the perfect family, only for a while, to please whatever offers hope to take it away.

 

Ah, the truth is that she isn't human in the first place. She is a constant scream, voice dropping low and rising right away, calling him out for every breath he takes since they have vanished into thin air. He leans against this brand new version of her without thinking, perhaps because he can, no matter how his clothes are rubbing against damaged skin tissue, getting coated in what might be remains of someone who didn't exist outside of his imagination.

 

How cruel, he thought he was past regrets and mourning.

He must be. There are—questions still left unanswered, that's all.

 

_Were you truly there?_ The words are burning his tongue, unable to come out. _Was I born on my own, bastard of the shadows? Or did you have me? Was I cared for by anyone or did I create everything else?_

 

Instead, Ienzo remembers the fire, bright flames rising so high the child he was had to step back in fear of getting caught in the blaze. It was years after the tragedy, yet it feels as if the events followed one after another, in the blink of an eye.

 

“I should leave.”

 

“Stay, oh we will have dinner soon, don't you want to remain around until then? I'll make your favorite.”

 

How could she know about what he enjoys the most? That's nonsensical. Xehanort—their conversation is distant now, although there was something about tricks not working on them. Ienzo isn't a fool.

 

He definitely isn't.

 

Fingers brush against his forehead, around the bruise and following the scar. Compassion has never been part of the household, was it? He isn't keen on forcing himself to remember, too busy extending a hand towards the doorknob. She won't let go unless he pushes her away, how aggravating.

 

Decayed lips press a kiss against his hair, roughly. How he would like to run for the door, forgetting this pitiful attempt at family as fast as possible. A part of him isn't so eager to fight, might be the head injury. Or—

 

“I suppose I can indulge in this travesty, if you insist.”

 

“Delightful! We have missed you so much.”

 

_Since you left us there to die,_ is unsaid. Although Ienzo clearly hears the words in his mind.

 

Eyes closed, he allows her to drag him around with her bony hand. They were so cold, he remembers, as they pressed against his face to show affection. Distant too, impossible to grab as his parents offered books before fleeing in another part of the house so they did not have to interact.

 

“Won't you look at me?”

 

The answer is obvious, isn't it? Ienzo has no reason to see the consequences of his actions back then. She doesn't mind much anyway, as long as she can keep him by her side forever. That sounds like a disheartening prospect. He'll have to flee after recuperating enough.

 

It's wrong. Starting to make compromises with a nightmare is going to cost him his life. He ought to figure out a solution as fast as possible.

 

She leads him to the kitchen, only to abandon her sole child in the middle of it. He hears the fridge opening, a foul smell invading the kitchen. Might be something rotten and poisonous inside, who knows. He climbs on the counter after opening an eye to be sure of not bumping into something else. Funny how there is no nostalgia in hearing the woman chat about the fantastic time they're going to have. They weren't close enough to share such moment, back then.

 

He remains there nonetheless, feet lightly hitting the cupboard under the counter without causing any reaction from his mother. Or the image of her he has been given.

 

“It smells good in there!”

 

“Do you mean rancid, father?”

 

Ienzo refuses to face his relatives, squeezing his eyes shut as much as he can to avoid opening them by mistake. A hand ruffles his hair. Another foreign gesture, should he keep count of them? Would it be exciting? This world ought to stop turning his parents into friendly corpses, that's not what they were at all.

 

“You barely visit, and when you do it's a wonder we do not throw you out, with these terrible manners of yours.”

 

The tone is kind, hinting at mockery. Nothing rough enough for Ienzo to feel at ease. What is he meant to reply?

 

_I'm sorry._

 

“I wonder who forgot to educate me, honestly.”

 

He would banter this way with Even, certainly not with his parents. They do not seem to care, moving around the kitchen and making noise by taking out pots and pans. It does not alleviate his headache in the slightest, although the world has gotten more stable than before.

 

“Here, drink some water darling, you're awfully pale.”

 

A glass is pressed into his hands, forcing him to glance at its contents. It does seem to be water, and not blood poured out for him. That means it cannot cause harm. Avoiding to observe his parents, he is quick to go back to darkness while emptying it in one go. It does help, a little.

 

“I should take my leave,” he repeats, stuck under the impression of a broken record is playing in his mind, unable to stop. What if he were to throw the glass against the opposite wall? Would it cause a reaction? He doesn't feel like trying.

 

“Dinner will be ready soon, don't worry, Ienzo.”

 

“We're here for you.”

 

That's exactly where the problem lies. They should not. They are dead—corpses he saw that night—unable to come back to life. Yet, he is stuck on this counter, awaiting for whatever atrocity they have decided to cook to be ready.

 

_You won't leave_ , his mind screams. And he cannot tell why.

 

It's only for a while, he'll eat dinner and then—nothing will ever be right again. When he got rid of them, he should have been more careful, this way ghosts and monsters wouldn't have opted to claw his skin by clinging to him. Too late to go back in time and set this eerie house on fire a second time around.

 

Perhaps dinner won't be that bad.

 

“We love you,” they whisper, and it echoes around the kitchen, the sentence repeating endlessly, “we love you so much.”

 

Ienzo laughs.


	3. Land of what has been lost - Lea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, it's time for Lea's pov!  
> Thank you for your kudos, they are why I write. That and my constant need to rewrite canon.
> 
> (Heavy mentions of child abuse in this chapter.)

     Home is not where Lea ends up, for the sole reason he has no place of such nature. He got dragged into this journey, rebirth fixing nothing at all, akin to the previous ones. He is the laughing one, passing by without staying long enough for anyone to learn more than his name. It's all he cared about, before, when his own family couldn't even get that detail right. They used nicknames, mockery hidden under a thick layer of sweetness. He hates that, people and parents and everything standing above him. Orders and the ones who give them out without taking into account consequences. He is an assassin, the kind of job you don't recover for. No heart, one heart, two hearts. Who cares? Lea loses them behind, tracing a path back to a house who never was.

 

The bakery makes sense, in that regard.

 

Another hideout, a safe room where no one could reach for him even if they tried. They did not, that's the point. The bizarre version of his blood relatives which exists in this town won't find him. They would have to care, their thirst for blood higher than usual. Monsters are often lazy, not keen on accomplishing daunting tasks by themselves. Ienzo is this way too, he noticed when they were still children, freshly carved out like corpses, lined next to each other in coats too big for their bodies. He recalls how the kid abused his powers on anyone coming too close, avoiding missions and everything too bothersome when not in the mood.

 

Axel was never given such kindness. But then, he is not the ghost of someone who was once loved. Aching limbs struggle to fit behind the counter as he munches on some bread. It tastes terrible; he doesn't mind. He spent hours right there, praying for abandonment and to be erased from existence. Didn't work out so well, but hey he eventually found Isa so—in a way, that didn't turn out for the best either.

 

He glances, between two bites, at the woman humming in the backroom, certainly baking even more stale delights for whatever lives in this horrendous place. He forgot her face, or name. That's kind of unfortunate, how people became strangers in passing, liars he couldn't get attached too. He was too shy back then, unable to face her properly when she let him hide from the world. He has scars, the kind you don't talk about, blood soaking his clothes when he wasn't careful enough, the smell hidden underneath everything else in the small bakery. He remembers chewing on whatever was left at the end of the day, muffled 'thanks' passing his lips, forced smile alongside them. He has never been good at opening up, being too much of a cry baby once he says more than the bare minimum.

 

Emotions twirl inside his chest, a myriad of days suddenly flashing in front of his eyes. All exactly the same, following a pattern no one ever cared about. He was fine on the streets, laughing and running around. A prankster, on the verge of turning into someone cruel, if not for his kind heart. Silent at home, plugging himself off this world for a couple of hours. Rinse and repeat until you don't realize what's so terrible about this. He won't find Isa in this town, nor anyone else. His feet dragged him here, for sure, but he has no qualms in admitting he'd rather be back with his real friends.

 

The ones he has learned to trust, in spite of their bad habits, and Ienzo's temper.

 

“Are you going home soon?” The baker calls out, her voice softer than it should be.

No, she was loud and bright at once, never daring to hug him thus she opted to fill his arms with food he needed instead. People don't return once they have died, unless they are special or something.

 

That's bullshit, yeah.

Lea doesn't believe his existence is especially meaningful or worthy of such ending. He was fine with vanishing, honestly, if only to save a friend. Maybe he grew too attached to that fool called Sora, who knows. Whoever is toying with their lives, opting to rescue them only so they can vanish again—these people are unforgivable.

 

“Still looking for one, ma'am.”

 

“Oh, is your search going well?”

 

“Who knows?”

 

Are they based on memories or feelings, these ghosts lingering around? He doesn't care, honestly. Lea is past caring about curses and hope, all he wants is to grab the two he came with and leave. Cut the heartbreaking trial about family and moving on, he isn't interested.

 

Technically, he doesn't have to stay behind the counter forever, he could get up and leave that damn bakery forever. A _piece of cake_ , right? He'd like to do that, a shame his body isn't eager to comply. There are years piling up on the shelves, candles with numbers meant to decorate cakes and celebrate the joy of existing. He wanted to set all of them off at once, if only so they would vanish forever, instead of having to wait for his birthday to be forgotten. Even once Isa started to tag along, he—refused to give out the date. It was fine, back then. Less presents to buy, no reason to celebrate more than another day.

 

He watches, lifting his chin, as birthday candles start to light up one after another, emitting a soft glow. Is it meant to be solemn or important? It feels like a fucking funeral, that's all. He groans, wondering if the place is going to burn down to punish him for whatever he was meant to be. His soul isn't for sale, even Lea himself isn't certain to care about it. When Xemnas told them they were soulless puppets, his heart wasn't completely gone—or else Roxas wouldn't have become his friend. That's why he won't lose there, to some tricks even Ienzo wouldn't dare to pull on him.

 

Lea is faring a lot better than anyone else, he guesses. Low standards and all this shit. He pushes palms covered in breadcrumbs against his knees, limbs protesting the sudden command.

 

(Lea won't watch his world burn down, this time around.)

 

“The candles are a tad too much, don't you think?”

 

The sound coming from the backroom is eerie, a chuckle turned metallic at the end, as if the person was more of a machine than anything human, sound echoing around the whole place. That's kind of creepy, honestly. Lea would rather leave, although he is certain, without being able to tell why, that the door isn't going to open for him. He blows on the candles on the shelves, one after another, the light around him vanishing more and more as he does so. Considering it's still daytime outside, the bakery shouldn't be invaded by darkness to such extend.

 

He turns around, glaring at the windows which appear to block the sun, refusing to let its rays go past the glass. Fuck it, then, he is going to be surrounded by nothing but his stupidity. Lea blows on the remaining lights, puffing his cheeks as much as he can. Whatever is coming, and it's gonna slam into him really fast, he will deal. He'd be fine not being thrown into problems like that, all the time. Facing the past once was traumatic enough, why is this world so keen on repeating this story? Is it because it's their weakness, where they hoped the most and lost everything at once? Ah, he doesn't want to know the answer.

 

“You're not her, which is sad, because she was truly a great person,” he comments, trying to adjust his eyes to the lack of light. He can summon flames, probably. Lea isn't going to do so until it's compulsory, aware his powers won't respond as well in this place. They are far away from the blessed worlds where heroes always win. It's better not to tempt fate once more.

 

“ _You could have been my son,_ _safe away from them_.”

 

“Seriously?” He snorts, “that's what you have decided on? I don't remember enough for this joke to work, my bad.”

 

He catches a glimpse of something inhuman standing in the door frame, shadow growing more and more as he watches it. The kind of horror bound on trailing him, wishing to take whatever it ought to fed on to remain alive. That sucks, since Lea has a lot of stuff to do, not dying being on top of the list. As it advances ominously, Lea tries to predict the best escape route. Technically, there should be back door, although it means facing the creature at some point to reach it. As if it wanted to discuss the plan, the monster seems to become even longer, arms growing until they reach the floor, slowly crawling in his direction.

 

“Really? Like—do I deserve _that_?”

 

Where are Kairi and Ienzo when he needs them? Probably facing their own horror-filled memories. Cool, he ought to find them as fast as possible. Lea can deal with this, if only because he has a low tolerance for this bullshit. The others—Kairi closes herself off so much these days, unable to get the full closure she deserves—he is worried.

 

As the monster steps forward, a squishy sound resonates, heavy drops falling on the floor, as if—shit it's a bakery. Is this fake baker made of dough? That's the kind of nightmare he gets? Years of traumatic experiences to face a giant cake? Is this a puzzle? Like should be put some candles on it and then light the whole thing on fire? That sounds like stress and paranoia talking, to be honest.

 

Lea climbs over the counter, only to slip on croissants and pastries, crashing on the other side. Cool, now he is closer to the front door—the one he can't use to get out, without a doubt. Shit.

 

Against the windows, palms appear, followed by fingers gliding against the glass. Lea recognizes the whispers, the way they promise the world and even more. That's a lie though, an incoherence. His parents never dared to drag him back home, remaining as far from the bakery as possible. It can't be them.

 

(Everyone's dead anyway.)

 

_Breathe in. Breathe out_. He misses Kairi, the way she would press a palm against his shoulder blade, reminding him loneliness doesn't have to last forever. That's the worst timing to ponder about emotions though. He has to get out, or else—trapped between the monsters outside and the one leaving dough behind as it creeps towards him, refusing to relent—he doesn't truly have a choice.

 

His eyes have adjusted to the dim light by now, enough for Lea to rush forward, trying to be faster than the monster. Something moist wrap around his ankle right as he rushes next to the blob, making him face plant against the floor. Fine, the plan could have gone better, but Lea is running on adrenaline right now.

 

That and a new found hatred for cake.

 

Even as he kicks, propping himself on his elbows, the thing refuses to let go.

 

It's funny, summoning his keyblade doesn't even cross his mind. Last time monsters invaded Radiant Garden, he didn't have one after all.

 

“You bastard, do you think it's how you get someone to love you!”

 

Snarling, Lea eventually opts to slam his leg against the floor as hard as possible, hurting the dough monster enough for the grip around his ankle to lessen. _Run_ , his mind screams so loud he feels dizzy as he gets up, slipping on the floor and almost falling once again.

 

They weren't given a choice, Isa and him.

They died because no one cared enough to free them from the castle and mad scientists.

 

This time though—he will definitely be his own hero, since no one else is available. He runs on faint memory of the kitchens, scrapping his thighs against counters and tables as he makes his way towards where he remembers the exit to be. Bruises are a nice alternative to death, Lea decides, ignoring the whines behind him. He won't be caught.

 

(He is terrified of being trapped again.)

 

His shoulder slams against the door, leaving Lea disoriented as he pulls with all his strength. Why doesn't it open? Despair starts to grow, spreading around him like a hellfire as he feels tears rising in his eyes. What the hell is wrong with this world?! He is certain there is no other way to leave the bakery—

 

Shit, he has to push!

 

Stumbling outside, Lea closes the door right away, before running without looking back. There is blood on his pants, and it's not the moment to determinate where it comes from. As long as he doesn't bleed to death on the streets, it'll be fine. The town is back to its calm self, the bakery as welcoming as before when he rushes past the entrance.

 

Now, where is he meant to go? Radiant Garden is filled with hiding places, many probably not even there as he is starting to believe this fake world only offers them little bits of the past to lure them into traps, instead of the whole picture. If he doesn't stop running in circles, at some point Lea is certain to find the others, lost in their own distortion. Optimism is hard to come by these days, not that he has another idea.

 

His body gradually refuses to follow the rhythm, forcing him to walk, his weight shifting on his right leg. Apparently, the dough monster caused more damage than anticipated. Once he finds his foolish friends, they can scold him for not even checking how deeply he's wounded.

 

Solitude isn't as heavy as anticipated, as he progresses through familiar memories. He can handle whatever happens, as long as he isn't alone at the end of the road. Sure, their trio is all broken, made of leftovers, people unable to be whole ever again. Who gives a fuck about that? As long as they bring joy to each other at least once, it's fine to argue and shout from time to time, to disagree and make mistakes. They will learn, they simply haven't gotten the opportunity to do so until then. Lea wonders about growing up at times, how it's meant to feel like.

 

Is it akin to death wrapping itself around you during a cold night, stealing a kiss and then dragging you to rest? Or is it about sitting on a clock tower, high above the world, sharing stories with nostalgia and affection? Perhaps both, in an endless dance of falling and climbing back up to watch sunset again.

 

His steps halt as he glances at the sky, hoping for a soft glow and clouds drifting by. Instead Lea gets a parody of a gray day, colors don't blending together as they should, everything too static. Ah, all this work to create something perfect only to forget what matters the most. Later, he will wrap his arms around them, the kids who got dragged into this mess by his side. That's an odd goal, to fantasize about an embrace when, days earlier, they were arguing so loudly they couldn't stand each other. Why would it be wrong, to hope for change?

 

Axel would laugh, hollow and exhausted, at such prospect. There wasn't much to dream of, when orders got contradictory, a game of cat and mouse turned into an odd path to glory and death. Lea has to believe it'll be different, this time around. A glimpse of light basking them without trying to suffocate who they are. Axel—Eight—was a corpse pretending to be alive, until children offered him his heart back. Too late, the damage was so heavy suicide was the sole way to end this farce. That's another memory turned into a secret. Dying only to return right away, face freed from tears engraved under his eyes.

 

He is sick of being—the one meant to bring relief and laughter.

Do they know how painful it was, to allow someone to put ink into his skin when he was only sixteen, dead over one year earlier?

 

The joke is right there! He didn't feel it, no matter how close to his eyes the marks were, because he wasn't truly alive in the first place. That was—he isn't certain. That's a story he is not willing to remember, Xibgar's predatory smile as he held a glass or alcohol in one hand and a gun tattoo in the other too close for comfort, even years after. He has no reason to weep for the marks long gone, as they were merely a way to mock him. As if being stripped of humanity wasn't enough, the Organization decided to go further into horror by mistreating its youngest members.

 

(He doesn't want to know what they have done to Ienzo, who was a child.

There is a limit to the monstrosity Lea can stomach.)

 

 

     Eventually, dark walls catch his attention, out of place in the midst of a narrow street, another locked door taunting him. He crashes on the steps without caring about this detail right away. Which house is this? Ah, Kairi has always been more focused on people, able to sense what's inside their heart, light and darkness echoing within her. He doubts she would materialize some creepy house out of nowhere. However, that's definitely Ienzo's way of doing things. Edgy and unnecessary.

 

He takes a moment to finally inspect himself, glaring at the bloody mark the dough-arm left by squeezing too hard. Lifting his pants actually hurts, fabric having been pushed deep into skin. He's going to swallow a cake whole as revenge, one day. Right now—healing would consume his magic, leaving nothing in case of a real emergency. At worst, what's another scar? He proceeds to check for the rest, only finding red marks which will be forgotten soon enough. That's fine.

 

His heart is still pounding so fast he can barely hear his own thoughts, lifting a hand to knock on the door. Magic rules this world, thus he won't get to enter by using brute strength. Which is a relief as he doubts he wants to do anything involving a fight right now.

 

A nightmare appears in the door frame seconds later.

 

Lea almost gags at the vision in front of him, lack of skin on some parts of the body, insects prying their way out of what's left. Has he witnessed more hideous wounds back then, when he had to get rid of whatever was in the way? Lea refuses to remember. He almost expects her limbs to fall off, giving up on carrying what's left of her, as she warily step back.

 

“Yo, I'm Ienzo's friend.”

 

“A friend of my little darling?” She repeats, unsure of the words.

 

_Trust me, I'm as surprised as you are._

 

“Is he here? We were supposed to hang out today.”

 

“You see, hm, he is busy with a family dinner. Surely you can understand?”

 

“Not really. Can I come inside?”

 

At the second where she nods, Lea steps in, unsure of what will happen if she changes her mind. The house immediately leaves him uneasy, as he stares at portraits covered in a thick layer of dust. A ghost house, filled with monsters. He's polite enough, or rather keen on staying alive, to avoid telling the woman she is missing half of her face. Neglect guides them through the decayed place, as he avoids observing his surroundings for too long. The less he acknowledges something is wrong, the better the situation will go. Or perhaps not. Lea has no time for another plan, so fuck it.

 

He could do without bile burning his throat and the ache in his leg though.

 

As they progress through the house, he starts hearing another voice, too joyful for the situation. He steps behind the woman, no minding how tiny she is next to him, fully intending on using the corpse as a shield if necessary. He isn't eager to witness whatever is happening in the dining room.

 

Can't be worse than the bakery, he reminds himself.

Oh, how wrong he is.

 

 

     The chandelier is hanging precariously on the ceiling, candles almost burned out as it winces from time to time. The creaking is all he can hear, as he stares at the scene. The second corpse, in a suit torn apart, keeps on trying to empty his glass. A shame he has an impressive hole in his throat, causing the liquid to fall out until his shirt is damp and purple. Cool, like really, it's cool. It's not like Lea wanted to fall asleep during the following nights anyway.

 

“Ienzo.”

 

There is no reaction.

At he end of the table, eyes closed, Ienzo doesn't notice him at all. His lips are tainted with something dark he cannot identify. Although the rotten food everywhere on the table might be a good indication of what happened. Disgust invades his sense as he forgets about behaving like a good guest, grabbing a chair to sit next to the other.

 

“ _Ienzo_ _._ ”

 

He notices the faint lines on his friend's face, the same color as the wine soaking his father' shirt. They seem akin to veins, except they grow and expand the more he looks at them. That's far from a comfortable situation, he tells himself. Tentatively, he extends his hand towards his friend, prying fingers away from the fork he is still holding.

 

Ah, that's not like he can win this fight for Ienzo, as pitiful as it sounds. Each of them has to face their own problems to be allowed to leave. Screw that, it's another made-up rule created to laugh at them. Once he is holding what could be a weapon, Lea slams it against the table, to prove a point he can't explain, cutlery vibrating in terror.

 

“I think—”

 

A part of him expects Ienzo to immediately cut him off with a little 'oh, you have learned how to do so?', causing an involuntary pause. Obviously, the kid isn't going to say much, considering how he barely seems to be in touch with his surroundings.

 

“You were saying, dear?”

 

The couple is staring at him, eyes bulging out as they lean above the table, as if he was meant to be the dessert. Too many food horror for one day, he decides while leaning back against the chair. His foot nudges the other under the table, praying to avoid touching anyone else.

 

“Were they truly like this?”

 

“Like what, Lea?”

 

Horrendous, he wants to say, monsters.

“Cruel,” he offers instead, exhaustion washing over him. He can get why Ienzo refuses to watch the scene.

_So similar to how you see yourself_ , he bites his tongue to avoid adding.

 

You can remove skin, leaving ugly blotches of crimson here and there. Or even break bones, yanking them off someone's face, only to define what's left by painting lines with blood and gore, yet it's merely a child's nightmare staring right back at him—at them. Nothing more. Ienzo is probably still six or eight in a corner of his head, adding layers of illusions until he can twist the truth in a way which makes it unforgivable. That's a kid keeping his eyes closed so the monsters won't touch him, no matter how illogical such reaction is for people like them—

 

No, it's because they had to endure it once, and then twice. Forced to watch every time, to feel as they were told by mocking adults it made no sense for them to cry any longer. No one wants to go through that again.

 

“I don't remember.”

 

Lie. Truth. Either way, they have to leave this house. Or else, there won't be anything left of Ienzo within hours. He sighs, glaring at the fork impaled in the table as if it had caused all this tragedy.

 

“You have to look at them. That's your trial or whatever the fucker in charge wanna call it.”

 

“I can't.”

 

Makes sense. He can't accept to leave with that though. The plan is to get out, then find Kairi, and leave this terrible world forever. Blowing it up would be fantastic, if they get enough time to do so. And explosives.

 

Lea's chair shrieks against the wooden floor as he slides closer to the youngest ex-apprentice. If they were closer, less shunned on an emotional level, he would go for a big hug. Without Kairi's in the middle, it's only two murderers trying to bring each other comfort and that definitely sounds weird.

 

He grabs a napkin, rubbing it against Ienzo's lips without much kindness. In return, the other winces, trying to avoid the gesture.

 

“You ate rotten food, by the way.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Oh. Yeah, oh. Lea can feel flames grow inside his chest, spreading until his knuckles are aching to hit something. If he's lucky, he would be the table and nothing more important. Shaking people and threatening them isn't the right way to obtain answers, he's aware of it.

 

Still, Ienzo's disconnected state is beyond worrisome. It's as if he couldn't truly reach him wherever he decided to hide. The faint lines are spreading enough to surround closes eyes by now. Bad news. It would be easier if he could switch place with the other, as he has already stared at the monsters for a while. Enough to be able to stab them without a fork without aiming at a missing limb.

 

“What's—okay, so what scares you the most? Judgment? How ugly they are? Something else?”

 

“Hm.”

 

That's definitely a 'I don't know, stop pestering me'. Cool, it doesn't help in the slightest. Hesitant, he presses a palm against Ienzo's hair, ruffling it slightly. That's when he notices the deep cut on the top of his forehead. It's damp against his fingers, still fresh. Oh, Ienzo.

 

“Why are you such a damn fool?”

 

Forgetting his earlier qualms about hugs between murderers, he tugs him close until Ienzo's head is resting against his shoulder. The gesture unleashes something on the other side of the table, the couple starting to climb, then crawl on it to reach for them with greedy hands. Yeah, that's what happens when you don't give your kid any affection and then you get jealous because someone else does.

 

“Stop playing peek-a-boo and—look. I'll be with you until we are outside, and probably after since we travel together, in case you forgot.”

 

Sure, it'll be another trauma. Lea is willing to bet it'll be less problematic than getting eaten by these two anyway.

 

“Can't.”

 

A real child would cling, ensuring he doesn't vanish. Ienzo has outgrown innocence and hope a long time ago, opting to lean without doing anything else. It's meaningless to beg for people to stay, as you end killing them whatever they leave or not in the end.

 

Lea could tell him it's not real. For the master of illusions, such sentence wouldn't matter. He opts to fetch the fork with his free hand, stabbing the hands slithering on the table—or, rather, attempting to. The monsters are getting fast, and this weird wrack-a-mole game isn't fun.

 

“You might have killed them,” he can feel Ienzo inhaling sharply against his shoulder, “yeah, as you said you don't remember. Allow me, since you are a fucker who doesn't get it, to remind you this world is giving us whatever its wants. These are not your parents, only shitty illusions you could make even more tasteless knowing you. So, the plan is—honestly, not dying. Beyond that, I need you to open your eyes. No matter what, I swear I will fight for you.”

 

He doesn't bother saying 'protect', as they are too damaged to believe anyone would shield them for no reason other than friendship.

 

“Why?”

 

“Why not?”

 

There are dozens of things he could add to validate Ienzo's doubt, their history being a disaster. Lea has no intention to ruin any of this further, not today at least. Later, there will be fights, and arguments over details which would be better forgotten. That's how they are.

 

“Okay.”

 

That's a lot to take in, he supposes as Ienzo blinks at the remains of what was once his family. For years, painting them with vicious thoughts was enough, which was fine since he didn't have to face them directly. Here—

 

Lea can forget, or rather he will eventually. Ienzo's powers won't allow a similar reprieve. Taking in the distorted faces, rotten hands trying to touch his face—must be heavy.

 

They crash against the table at the same time, one falling off. Screams filled with anguish escape the monsters as they melt against wood within seconds, leaving only bones and skin tissue here and there. There is no warning, nothing at all. It's over in the blink of an eye, the whole show having lasted for hours only for this conclusion. Lea doesn't move for a long time, noticing how the veins on his friend's face vanish one after another until his skin is back to normal.

 

A shame the same thing cannot be said about—the rest.

 

“Hey.”

 

He feels the body against his shake before he hears sobs. Okay. He looks away, unable to do anything else. He knows, because they have been raised by scientists and fellow nobodies for so long, the sound will die soon. They are too used to be silent, grief buried as deeply as possible. That's not fine, not that they know better.

 

Consequences will bounce around them during their trip, coming back to slap back in the face each time they'll think things have settled down. It's unfortunate, Lea mumbles to himself, tugging the other upright until they are back on their feet. Ienzo's forehead gash is bleeding again, perhaps because he is digging nails into the wound as to reach for his skull.

 

“Leave it alone,” he grabs his wrist, dragging Ienzo outside without mentioning blood and tears mixed on his face.

 

Before they reach the door, the youngest stops abruptly, gagging on thin air before throwing up at their feet. Or, more exactly, on Lea' shoes. In another circumstances, he would have replied with arson, and human barbecue. Here, he feels only pity. Enough to remind Ienzo they have water left in the ship.

 

Couldn't their magic clothes be designed to wash themselves?

 

On the bright side, he has almost forgotten about his own injuries, until they walk past the door and he puts his weight on the front leg. Okay, they ought to find Kairi and flee. If they are lucky, she's waiting for them inside the ship, ready to scold them for their lateness. As they pass close to the fountain, he lets Ienzo sit down on the ledge to wash his shoes quickly. He cleans his wound too, glaring at the way the skin has inflated around it.

 

Lea hesitates once finished, unsure of Ienzo's mental state right now.

It's always not-so-great in general, thus maybe he can hang on…

 

Absentmindedly, he uses the back of his hand, still wet, to rub Ienzo's forehead, trying to remove some of the blood so it doesn't fall into his eyes. After repeating it the gesture a couple of times, the other seems more miserable than dead, which is good enough.

 

“Can you hold on for a while?”

 

As Ienzo shakes his head, obviously struggling to do anything else, Lea makes the decision to walk him back to the gummi ship first. He watches as his friend drinks some water, spitting it right back after realizing it's certainly a lot grosser now they washed their wounds-and vomit-with it.

 

“I might faint.”

 

“Thanks for the head-up. Let's go.”

 

If Kairi is waiting for them, cool.

If not, he'll go look back for her immediately.

 

An impressive decision, for sure.


	4. Land of what has been lost & Casino - Kairi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support! An especially big thanks to my friend Lycan, who has been an inspiration when it comes to this fic. I love talking with them about the plot for hours.
> 
> So, Kairi's pov! Finally. And our brand new world, which is quite shiny and wonderful-at least at first glance.

There has always been a difference, some invisible line they do not mention nor cross. A rare proof of manners they hide behind layers of sarcasm and morals on the verge of plunging into nothingness. Kairi bears the weight of light, childhood ruined then saved, princess of heart adored, then snatched from her home in the middle of the night; stuck in some sort of wicked in-between where she isn't allowed despair nor happiness. Unlike Lea, she doesn't have parents who left scars so deep she can feel them in every step; after all, outside of her grandmother, there is nothing in Radiant Garden and she is starting to believe Destiny Islands as—it's real, of course, she loves them. Is it enough? Not really—nothing more another break where everything was fine between an earthquake and a tidal wave. Unlike Ienzo, she isn't able to cast terror around her—if she could, maybe she'd understand what she is so afraid of.

 

The lantern is no more, vanished into the glutton's heart. It wasn't her grandmother, who took her hand with care, until they reached a home with checkered curtains—another illusion, the kind Ienzo layers until he forgets who he is—leaving her standing in front of her past. A door so easy to push, only to find herself in a place where she immediately didn't belong. It wasn't more real than anything else—waiting for days with her soul gone, unable to think, fight or _be_ _someone_ —and she let go. She regretted, at this second, as her arm fell back by her side, to not have done the same to her life as a whole earlier. Running away, abandoning duty and the fate of the world; perhaps that was her wish all along. She cannot tell.

 

Her grandmother, the one who certainly died on her own in another lifetime, remembering a grandchild whose name faded from history, morphed into the personification of rejection, unforgiving and monstrous. Head rolling back, mouth opening so wide there was nothing but a giant hole, ready to swallow her. Hence the lantern, her attempt at using light to extinguish darkness once more. She threw without having time to think of a proper plan, tripping on her own feet. Her training weight nothing, all of a sudden, rendered useless by a lone enemy.

 

Terrible.

 

She ran, feeling unable to do more, keyblade forgotten—no, that's not true, she simply didn't want to summon it. Something about her magic being her sole source of strength. She was encouraged so often to practice healing and standing back, even during sparring, everyone afraid she would break upon hitting the ground. She is thankful to Lea, big brother extraordinaire, for mocking her lightly, shouting nonsense such as 'listen my life is suddenly super valuable, so you need to protect yours' after long days. Kairi knows—how could she not—that Lea is a prankster in the same way Ienzo is a compulsive liar; to survive. And what is she, then? The pilot. After making her way back to the ship, she ponders over that, how easy it turned out to be. After all, Sora and Riku were children when they were first sent to save the world.

 

That's a dream inside a dream, a memory she cannot even extract from her heart due to the damage. What does she remember, outside of abandonment? Not much. And then, no one understood back on the island. She was told not to worry, to await their return—after all, they all just got lost during the storm, that's what the adults repeated for years—something off about the whole thing. There are gaps everywhere, in how they were treated, heroes or pariahs, in the lack of consequences until that point. She wouldn't go into the past, aware her fate wasn't her to decide.

 

Doesn't mean she isn't angry about it.

 

She ran through the tunnel until her side was hurting, begging her to breathe. In and out, or something like that. And, as she sits, arms around herself to bring invisible comfort no one has enough time to spare, Kairi wonders if she learned enough during training. Enemies were never real, her strength pushed back to turn her into an ally rather than a hero.

 

“Did your friends forget you?”

 

On the edge of her eyes, vanishing if she tries to turn her head, there is someone else. Laying against a white column—as if they were in the middle of a palace or something similar; the vision strains her eyes within seconds, leaving Kairi with the beginning of a headache.

 

“Is this your doing?”

 

“This place? No. Your misfortune? It will be.”

 

She straightens her back, rage bubbling inside her throat, sour and unwelcoming. She doesn't have to recognize her tormentor, the one who seems stuck somewhere else. Her head is pounding, magic trying to push the vision away until she covers her eyelids with both hands. She feels it, still, that link between them. That's only another version of the same world, the person's own fantasy. Did they arrive at the same time? That's a possibility, one she doesn't dwell on.

 

“Why aren't you escaping like I did?” She clenches her fists, until she sees stars and the world gets lighter for a second.

 

“I am not a mere fool like you and your so-called friends, I have control over darkness.”

 

_Don't mention the one_ _s_ _I birthed inside my own heart,_ she prays to herself. She doubts one can fully manipulate their own will—even Nobodies couldn't manage that, shadows of the past twisting them into being almost human—which is a shame because she would certainly appreciate to chill and remove some stuff from her mind sometimes. When will they leave her alone? The sooner the better.

 

“That sounds like a lie,” she confesses, enjoying the way they huff by her side, obviously taking great offense at her words. For once, someone is listening.

 

“How would you know? You have been nothing more than a vessel since birth.”

 

She can't play this game, not now, after remembering the burning lantern against her hand—the way her fake grandma inflated after eating it, exploding into what felt like clay, easy to mold, yet devoid of a soul. Kairi has dozen of sentences burning her tongue, all empty and lacking strength. Right now, she wants to be left alone to decay, forgotten child against a ship lost in time, is it such a mediocre future? There is static, by her side, as if the lifeline between her and the stranger was starting to break. That would be a relief, although she refuses to free her eyes to witness what's happening.

 

“What's your name? You know mine so—it's not really fair.”

 

“You shall call me Xehanort.”

 

Which one? The name is akin to an endless repetition. Existences piling on top of each other until no one knows who was here first, who deserves it. She knows Xehanort, their enemy, nemesis even, destroyer of worlds and anything she is meant to protect until the end. Fairness probably couldn't matter less to someone like that, a villain wearing such title proudly. Kairi wants to cry, which is common, tears pricking at her eyes almost as much as it happens to Lea. Except she has been told to keep sadness inside, rather than only an invention of her tired mind.

 

“Go away, I know enough.”

 

“Once your heart is rip for harvest, what will happen I wonder?”

 

The link is cut abruptly, causing her to crash on her side, hands covering her face still. She takes a moment to recall she exists, that she hasn't fallen in a swallow grave she dug herself. By the time Kairi is well enough—head pounding and thoughts turned upside down—to sit up, she notices blurry figures not far away. As there is a shout—her name, loud and clear—she recognizes her friends.

 

If she has to be honest, they look like they went through something terrible.

Which is also her case, so it's fine.

 

Another day, she would have chuckled at Lea giving a piggyback ride to Ienzo, for sure. Her heart doesn't allow this, and as soon as they are both close to her, the latter back on his feet, she scrambles on hers. An embrace would be—exaggerated? It's only a bad day, akin to the previous ones. Another horrific truth, soon replaced by a dull in-between where they'll laugh together abroad the ship. Can she touch them, ensure they are real? Boys went to war, and here she is, having barely faced a single monster.

 

“That was super fucked up, but we're okay. You?”

 

She blinks at Lea, brain not synchronized with reality.

 

“You're bleeding, both of you?”

 

How is this acceptable? She checks her hands and then everything else with dull eyes; she didn't fight hard enough, if all she bears is a bruise on her knee. She staggers forward, wishing to vomit dozen of apologizes, finding herself unable to let anything out instead. Her body—always betraying her—melts into Lea's arms as soon as he offers them, Ienzo standing awkwardly on the side, not wanting to share any of this. That's fine, she'd like to shatter with leaving as little shards as possible behind, this time around.

 

“I had an unfortunate meeting with my parents, or rather monsters wearing their faces in an uncanny way. Lea, I believe, encountered someone from his past too. Therefore, I can only guess—”

 

“My grandma. I killed her—except it wasn't— _her_?”

 

How does it even make sense? She wants to mention Xehanort, menacing voice, taking pleasure in taunting her with a hint of childishness; words refuse to come out. She closes her eyes and wishes she could disappear for a while, and it more or less works.

 

Until Lea winces, unable to keep his weight on his bleeding side. They head inside without commenting on how shitty they must look, not even starting the engines. Instead, they huddle in a corner, sitting a large blanket in a deafening silence.

 

 

      “It took Lea for me to defeat my fears, whereas you did it on your own, without getting injured. There is nothing shameful about that,” Ienzo bluntly offers hours later, picking at the tender skin on his forehead until Lea lowers his hand with a frown.

 

“Stop reopening it, moron.”

 

“It wasn't the same—it felt different, like a trial not as hard as yours.”

 

A mockery of adversity. The world so utterly dismissive of her in ways she cannot articulate—weight against her side, from running without bothering to turn around, defeat tucked inside her ribcage at the mention of dough monsters and other things she cannot fathom, so real to Ienzo—concepts turned abstract and unfair within seconds. She could weep over herself, if she were allowed such reprieve. Instead, she twists her tongue into these meaningless sentences, as if she was begging for contradiction, for a hint of value in her existence.

 

“You're messed up too, is it what you want to hear?” Lea raises a hand, ready to ruffle her hair before suddenly sliding it in his own instead, probably not wanting to make her feel even more like a child. “That's not a race or anything— _Ienzo would definitely be winning_ —so take it slow. We're really proud of you, Kairi. And we're—like really messed up, in different ways. So if you want to—Okay, Ienzo some help, like right now?”

 

“You're a self you do not want, going through adolescence and what it implies. Should I follow what I have been taught or completely deviate from it? Were they right to shield me from the world for my own good or were they well-intentioned monsters caging me? Ah, the last one is too personal.”

 

Ienzo flickers his wrist, dismissive of whatever they are saying. In the end, isn't he right? Isn't their journey a path towards who they want to be? Not heroes or bearers of Keyblade, only them. Her headache is almost gone, scars left gaping behind it. She nods, swallowing harshly. That's too early, she cannot—perhaps another day, once she recovers, the heaviness of the lantern banished from her mind. It lasted so little, yet it was a lifetime and she threw it away, akin to a punch in her own face.

 

Was it despicable or relieving? Later, she'll decide.

 

For now, Kairi has a ship to drive somewhere else, away in the vast galaxy surrounding them. It'll keep her mind busy until the next adventure. It's not like they could afford to linger around, food supplies too low for that. If her fingers are shaking, the others are too tired to mention it, in the same way they don't appear to mind how she let the conversation die without a reply, unable to figure one out.

 

 

     Light has always been her element, what drives her from one place to another. It's silly, how she has grown to feel uneasy when things shine too brightly, as if the world was out to trap her into another unwanted storyline, plot always the same. She thinks of myths and gods, when light blinds them suddenly, the next morning. They slept, so little—Kairi having to let the others watch their imaginary route while she crashed down, not minding dried blood on the blanket—leaving her bleary as they approach the floating world coming their way. That's more—is it truly a world?

 

It's loud and colorful, shaped like a castle, something modern with neon lights and a huge arrow pointing towards the entrance. An endless party, is the impression she gets. A disaster, her first thought. There is a message, appearing on the facade as they get closer. _The universe's best casino, come today! Free chips!_

 

“Shitty,” is Lea' sole comment, and she agrees.

 

His leg has gotten better, although it still looks ugly as hell. They definitely do not have a choice, she laments as she tries to land without smashing right into the castle; they lack money to pay for the damage. It's not that bad, because it's as if the platform, covered in a giant red carpet, is gluing itself to the ship, keeping it stable.

 

They hesitate, before getting out, sharing glances and wondering about their terrible appearance. She hasn't washed her hair in a while and Ienzo—oh, the illusion is back on the side of his face, although he didn't bother hiding the band-aid right in the middle of his forehead.

 

“Let's do this.”

 

Honestly, they must have taken five steps at most before someone blocks their way. A tall and lanky woman who immediately holds her hands in hers.

 

“You poor things, you look so strained! Lucky for you, we have an hotel for our players! Take these welcome chips, and walk to your left, you cannot miss the lounge! Someone will walk you to your room so you can rest and freshen up.”

 

Kairi doesn't have time to register the words, pronounced as inhuman speed, and she is left staring at the ten chips between her hands, ivory surrounded by gold and silver. Okay, sure then. The woman is apparently offering the exact same speech to the others and soon they find themselves in a large hallway, confused by how sudden the whole scene was. The strangest thing is that she cannot even remember what the woman was wearing, or her face. Did she even have one?

 

Of course, people have a face—unless they are too acquainted with Ienzo's family, she guesses.

 

The scene repeat, a butler checking her palms, counting chips with a nod before walking them to their room—they passed the lounge, in a blur, and Kairi cannot focus on anything. Must be the lack of sleep, and she is sure of being right when Ienzo almost bumps into her as they try to walk through the door at the same time. The butler is gone before she turns around, and she closes the door with a sigh.

 

Only to repress a sob as she turns around.

 

That's—glory painted on walls, distilled in the large bathtub Lea is already gushing about in the bathroom, whereas the three beds are absolutely enough to fit an army of warriors. She stumbles forward, having taken her shoes off at the door, before climbing on the closest to her. Such smell—the flagrance is very different from their tents and—there is food too, a table in a second room she had missed, covered in welcoming gifts under the form of dishes she has never seen before. She gets up right after sitting down to reach it, enamored.

 

Chocolate mousse so high and whipped with such precision it looks like a cloud or even crepes filled with fruits, perfectly rolled and still steaming. That's not possible, a trap which will turn against them. Right now, as she grabs a chair, she couldn't care less.

 

 

      They waste an eternity in this room, closet filled with endless outfits they try on for no other reason than they have time. Lea walks around in a crop top, gushing about all the hair products they have, how the water in the bathtub stays warm for hours. Even Ienzo licks his fingers, manners forgetting, a hint of lemon sorbet on the corner of his lips. Kairi brushed their hair, leaving Lea's in a braid, and Ienzo's into something—different. She fixed the longest strands on the other side, with pins and some gel, and it looks ridiculous but he doesn't seem to mind being able to see. They put dozen of bows on her, until she nudged their ribs while laughing.

 

That's the highest in-between of her life, a sudden fairy tale she cannot let go of.

 

They jump on the beds as if they were still children, Ienzo laughing twice over what feels like an endless week end. Kairi is in such high spirits, casino chips glowing against her hands when they finally decide to head downstairs. After all, it would be terrible to refuse a gift. And they can only play for a while before going—oh they do not truly have a destination, and obviously they need a break. She is aware that magic is involved, allowing her worries to be pushed aside. Surely, it's not mandatory to allow this manipulation to go on; she lacks the will to reject this ephemeral moment, grinning at they walk downstairs.

 

As if they had been born inside the casino, they find their way between walls so high they feel endless, ending up in an impressive space, filled all sorts of games they can try—oh wait they only have ten chips each. That's such a meager way to have fun. As soon as she ponders over that, over her future here, if she wants to try to catch stuffed animals or play the lottery, there is a presence by her side, warm and hovering above her shoulders.

 

“Of course you can buy as many chips as you're able to!”

 

“We don't have much money.”

 

“Silly guest, we do not use money as currency here. You see the casino only asks from one thing from his beloved visitors; their memories.”

 

“Memories?”

 

“Nothing big! Here and there, the first time you rode a bike, or a lover. Any memory can make you a decent winner, opening opportunities while removing these pesky fragments you carry. Many only sell the ones they dislike, reaching true happiness in the process! Doesn't it sound delightful?”

 

“Getting rid of what's wrong with us….”

 

“Yes, yes!”

 

“That sounds… Nice.”

 


	5. Casino - Lea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I AM NOT DEAD. I realize last time I updated was in August and I swear I have not forgotten this fic.  
> Thank you for still reading it!

 

       Forgetting—convenient, memories used as mere offerings, feeding whatever entity has possessed the casino. Is there a fucking pattern here? Ah, Lea isn’t the smart one—never had this honor, knowledge forbidden from childhood—how is he meant to tell? Faceless monsters and sentient places are turning into something too recurrent to his liking. While he cannot confirm the first part, as focusing on any worker walking around strains his eyes to the point he is forced to close them, there is magic running rampant, and he doesn’t enjoy this. Is it one another test, to prove their resolve and ensure they do not walk away from the path of light? News flash assholes, if they are here, it means the light doesn’t mean much to them any longer.

 

Lea is the oldest, not a baby-sitter though. He’s gleeful to the point of selfishness right now, wanting to enjoy his own chips, throwing them away at silly games for prizes he doesn’t need. It’s a piece of cake to step away from his friends, to lose them within seconds. He has dozen of examples, sacrifices ready, of what he doesn’t ought to keep. Would it change his personality, to erase the abuse from his bones? _Scars scars pare_ _nts_ _on fire_ —oh, that’s definitely not how the saying goes. He puts more weight on his good leg, the other freshly bandaged and yet aching. That’s it! He wants to gamble the dough monster away first. How easy it’ll be. Also it’s recent, so consequences would be minor. Oh, oh, what if he were to tell Ienzo to get rid of what happened in that damned castle? Would it make them real friends (they already are), with murder thrown aside? He has no idea, head buzzing with contradictory concepts at once.

 

A blaze of lights engulf his gaze, dragging him from one game to another. Card games—poker, blackjack and all of these, they do make sense. They’re fragments of what happened, of being stuck of the ship with these two idiots, of cheating against Isa when they were children, hoping his friend wouldn’t notice and call him out on his bullshit—

 

He could erase Isa from his mind.

That would make him the ultimate traitor, the kind of monster worse than who Axel already was.

 

(As if he would have the guts to get rid of his first friend.)

 

He’s laughing, giggles bursting out of his throat without asking for permission, head dizzy and thoughts messed up. What’s wrong with this place? Ah, Lea isn’t Ienzo, he won’t pry at nightmares until they become close relatives. Nor he is Kairi, wishing to turn wrongs into rights to prove she’s capable enough. His limbs—suddenly lacking coordination—crash on a nearby chair. He notices the shiny bingo cards on the table painted in black. Gold and silver, awaiting to be picked for the meager price of one chip each. Hours of fun ahead!

 

Mechanical fingers—cold and eager—grip his shoulder to ask for the casino chips, and he offers them without turning back towards the monster. At some point, he is going to grow used to this shit. For now, Lea ought to calm his mind down enough to be rational and waiting for numbers to be called sound like a great way to do so. Nails scratch his aching leg. It means it’s healing—or that the wound got infected, whatever.

 

It’s bingo time, baby!

 

 

       Hours later, he is drinking a cocktail, little flames painted on the glass with icing, the waiter asking for ‘anything he wants’ so he picked something familiar and foolish at once—three chips for this orange flavored nightmare, he is running out so fast—awaiting a desperate eight to finish filling his while card. Which is, honestly, beyond insulting. Once he has used his ten chips, what is going to happen? Are the others already stripped of their will to ever leave? After hours here, on the comfortable chair which seems to refuse to let him get up, Lea has gotten enough time to notice how silent everybody around him is. Outside of the game, their eyes never search for anything, barely filling cards one after another and squirming when they are close to a win. _Nobody is winning_ though, which makes no sense as there aren’t that many numbers. The trick is—

 

“Seven.”

 

“Are you for real?” He whispers, dejected at how close he seems to be each time.

 

“Only a fool would believe in the possibility of winning.”

 

“You know, being a villain who only appears to say to lousy stuff isn’t as cool as you think it is, Xeha.”

 

Communication isn’t a complete waste of time, as Ienzo and Kairi, unreliable narrators most of the time, have warned him about the prospect of facing the personification of an annoying classmate one to one. They were brushing each other hair during the conversation, he thinks. He recognizes the voice, even if it’s a lot—ah he isn’t certain of what he is feeling, mind clouded by the casino. He grins nonetheless, watching as the chair next to him is suddenly filled. In an exaggerated outfit, red and black mixed together alongside a bubbling cocktail held between his fingers, Xehanort sure is a sight. A ridiculous one, to Lea. Is it how the other side—oh fuck that concept _right now_ —is moving forward in its meaningless conquest of the universe? Kind of pathetic, if you ask him. That’s probably why no one ever bother to do so.

 

“Do not address me in such manner,” the unwelcome guest scoffs, crossing one leg on top of the other while glancing at the cards without much interest, “this place is mediocre, an array of wasted talent.”

 

Xehanort has never been less than arrogant—at least since Lea and him met. Before, back in the mindset he is as a teenager, adult only on paper like Ienzo, perhaps he had different reasons to behave this way. Frankly? Lea doesn’t give a damn about tragic pasts other than his own, sorry.

 

“You got trapped here too, didn’t you?” Joy is razor sharp here, distilled in his drink and turning his natural hypocrisy into something even less practical.

 

“Absolutely not. I am not bound by the rules of any world.”

 

“Yeah, tell yourself that.”

 

He kicks him under the table, childishly. That’s for scaring Kairi when she was already down not long before.

 

As Xehanort doesn’t kick back, probably considering him to behave in a way beneath him, Lea ponders over their nemesis turned sidekick. Honestly, that’s how it feels! Drinking cocktails with buddy Xeha in their stupid festive outfits. Is the lavish room he shares with his travel companions even real? Was it simply a trick to gain their affection and ensure they would never leave? Ah, they are always fucked no matter what anyway.

 

“How does it even work?” He takes a sip of his cocktail, watching Xehanort throw a casino chip in the air for the creature awaiting for payment behind him—what a smug bastard.

 

Bingo shouldn’t work like this, people are not supposed to be able to join randomly during the game.

 

“Memories are an excellent currency. Mortals start out small, until they start erasing family members or their own home from their mind, trapping themselves endlessly.”

 

“That’s definitely a place my parents would have loved, can you imagine, forgetting me and getting paid for it, that’s the dream!”

 

“Do you realize the casino is affecting your psyche?”

 

“Either that or I’m talking the trauma out finally,” he jokes, sarcasm in his tone. Oh, sounding like Ienzo is definitely not the vibe he wants to offer. Of course this cursed gambling heaven has been infecting his mind for the past days, or else he wouldn’t be so—happy. No, he’s lively, lips bustling with thoughts which should be locked away, for absolutely no reason. Perhaps to encourage people to erase him from their mind.

 

His parents are dead. Not lost here, so he should simply return the favor and stop focusing so much on them. That’s the direct consequence of being faced with the fake baker, of having to be polite in front of the ghost of Ienzo’s family. He can go through this, doesn’t mean he has to pretend to like it.

 

“What will you gamble, Xeha-nort?

 

“Do not add a dramatic pause before the second part of my name. And to answer you, absolutely nothing. Regrets wouldn’t be befitting of a ruler.”

 

That’s the lamest lie he has ever heard—and he had to listen to Kairi explains that of course no she had not damaged the gummi ship while landing, the slight marks on the side probably happened before they even got it—they are forced to carry a couple of demons, that’s the price to pay for whatever they became. It’s not hard, to think of this version of Xehanort as a fellow monster, no matter the fact he is slightly younger than Lea.

 

They were children when they started it all—history turned them into rotten things as much as their makers, there isn’t a way to avoid this.

 

“I have a list—it starts with names you are familiar with. I won’t do it though. No point in erasing what cannot be fixed.”

 

“You left your friends without supervision, don’t you fear the path they might take without you?”

 

“To be like super honest with you? I couldn’t stop them in the first place, they are way too stubborn, so it’s better to trust them not to nuke me from their memories without trying to do more.”

 

“A choice you might carry alongside your other mistakes.”

 

“Look who is talking! The guy who has like ten versions of himself because he couldn’t do what he wanted alone.”

 

“I sought opportunities,” Xehanort hisses, “I moved my pieces, watched my rival playing King's Gambit foolishly, counteracting every step he took with his pawns—”

 

“Liar, you haven’t done any of this _yet_. Also, I have no fucking idea of what King’s Gambit is, stop overestimating the poor street kid you’ll recruit and torture one day.”

 

“I will. And it’s chess”

 

“Too boring for me, you should ask Ienzo to play with you, I’m sure he is familiar with that stuff.”

 

He doubts Xehanort cares enough to steal his friends from him. The point of his presence is to observe what they are doing, he guesses, nothing more. That’s already annoying enough, to be followed by an idiot who has decided to spy on them as if he were watching wild animals in a zoo.

 

Glaring at the numbers painted in golden and silver on his cards, Lea decides the game is not going to reach an ending anyway, so why should he bother? He throws them into the air, watching the plastic chips he used to cover most of the card crash on the table with a loud sound; a spark inside his mind akin to satisfaction.

 

“Buckle up, we’re leaving,” he pushes both hand against the chair, ignoring how it makes a sucking sound while attempting to keep him on, an unsteady grin on his lips, “I’m talking about the disasters I travel with, you can stay there, for what I care.”

 

The future ruler of darkness glares, teenage annoyance on his face, not deigning to reply.

 

 

      Not long after, lost in a hallway of glowing lights—eyesight suffering under that strain—he realizes his folly. He has been so convinced of being right, while walking away, chin up and confidence plastered on his face. He isn’t even certain of how he’s meant to regroup with the others—directions are nonsensical, creatures following him everywhere as he threatens the balance of their hellish world, faceless monsters with metallic hands.

 

“Would our honored guest enjoy to catch a stuffed animal for the girl? Or to remove unpleasant threads in his head with a drink and a warm bath?”

 

_G_ _et chips, be a part of this_ , they seem to snarl, cornering him at each turn, too close until he is dizzy, one eye closed. He dodges like he he did, in another existence, as pursuers had the same tone to lure him into a false sense of security. Lea is plagued with visions, memories of punching Ienzo for daring to stay the truth—overstepping boundaries they didn’t even know they were supposed to have— Kairi all alone, betrayal echoing on her face as they returned together. _You’re strong enough_ sounds like a lie when everybody else has warned you about your weakness your whole life.

 

Red hair appears in his field of vision, a blur with silly bows on her head. They put so many, Ienzo and him—that was a revenge for something which wasn’t life-threatening, and he finds himself running, brand new sneakers hitting the expensive floor to reach her in time.

 

“Kairi!”

 

He slides, leg whining in agony in a part of his mind he ignores, in front of her. She is still cradling chips in her palms, the ones they were offered. Once you have wasted all ten of them, that’s when the casino is claiming free real estate on your mind, right? He isn’t certain, although he doesn’t want to stay around long enough to tell.

 

“Lea? I—I tried to decide which memory had to go—”

 

“Most of them, right?” He plucks an especially ugly bow, green lace around purple dots, off her hair, clasping it to his own instead. The gesture is enough for her to pay attention, to follow the visual cue instead of focusing on her hands. She has six left, therefore, nothing is lost.

 

“Yes. And yet, what would I do after? Who am I going to be?”

 

“Happy! Or empty. You’ll be alive, experience and bonds lost, poof! If you forget Ienzo and I, you’ll get rid of moving forward with your past, taking so many steps backward, less pain, more pain? I have no idea.”

 

The casino is thrilling, mind producing enough strength to keep him going for a lifetime. Without Isa, without Roxas—if these two had not dragged him away from his misery—he has cried in front of them. Which was embarrassing as hell, yet he felt better after. Free of a weight he had carried for too long. As extraordinary as the place is, the pain inside his leg being pushed away, a smile without arrogance on his lips seeming to show his kind side, _that’s all fake_.

 

Akin to stepping back into Axel, mask and body crafted by talented fingers, each limb perfectly aligned with the others and the mind—oh the mind! A complete wreck not allowed to be. Nobodies have no emotions, they are pretending. Even laughing at your tormentors getting what they deserve is a mere replica of what a real emotion is, that’s what the mean adults tell you.

 

“We had enough of that place’s hospitality, right?”

 

Not Sora, not a bunch of heroes, that’s not them. They aren’t gonna save anybody or linger here, that would be stupid. Perhaps, once they get stronger, they can step back inside this place, slamming doors open and using keyblades to cause a mess. The casino picks on lone souls, the kind to get lost in darkness. Hey hey, they are merely on a journey, not completely wrecked yet. They were, will be again—not right now.

 

“Can’t we stay enough to put ourselves together?”

 

It’s obvious she doesn’t believe in her words, betrayed by reality. Kairi is too fierce to step back, to relent when faced with a tragedy. She fought the idea of her grandmother, winning with less consequences than either of them, walked back to the ship without assistance. Lea guides her to a bench, arm loosely wrapped around her shoulders so she doesn’t sink in the midst of glitter and slot machines. A vile moment for both of them, as they sit, uncomfortable. The casino isn’t keen on allowing them to be at ease anymore. That’s not the home they crave, merely an unfortunate step on the road. Lea laughs at bandages tainted with red, not recognizing his own voice.

 

(He’s fighting this—taking a stand by crushing felicity with logic, which is hilarious for sure—and he’ll win.)

 

(That’s everything gritting against her nerves, confined in one place; _don’t worry, everything will be fine, you only have to stand back and let go_.)

 

Remorse isn’t befitting of them, mistakes alive against all odds. He watches confusion morphs into something intense as her brows are arched into a sudden realization of what is happening. They’re extraordinary at breaking curses, pushing against what is imposed on their shoulders. The problem is that they often take down innocent bystanders by doing it alone. The three of them together, though, they’d like to believe they finally have a functioning brain cell.

 

“Oh. That was—good to rest here,” she admits, flowers blossoming under her hands before vanishing. That’s definitely too difficult to bring their weapons to life into worlds tainted by darkness to such extend, “we have overstayed our welcome though.”

 

He hears the question, the unspoken—almost frightful— _you came for me first, not Riku this time around_? Wrong recipient for such message. Decaying concepts, bonds severed by lack of care, pretending not to notice how terrible certain actions were because they were for a greater good Kairi never witnessed with her eyes.

 

“Definitely—don’t think we can like run to our room to grab our stuff. So let’s walk to the parking lot or whatever we left our ship and leave. With Ienzo, obviously.”

 

Later, once they are reunited, common dramatic atmosphere surrounding them, he’ll mention drinking cocktails with Xehanort. Is he still playing bingo? That would be an hilarious sight for the group, watching him sitting there akin to a grandma unable to win at a rigged game. Can you threaten to destroy a world you have no power over? He wants to witness such event, for the prince of darkness to be humiliated. Of course, that would mean him caring enough about their nemesis for that. He throws the remaining chips in his pockets on the ground, where they melt immediately, becoming part of the marble floor.

 

Slightly messed up, the usual then.

 

Kairi does the same, although she takes her sweet time throwing chip one by one with more strength than compulsory. Around them, faceless creatures are gathering, bows on their uniforms slightly off. They are growing agitated with unruly guests—after all, they exist to keep the peace within this blessed place, would be inconvenient for a bunch of kids to ruin their hard work.

 

“Let’s run,” he suggests, holding his hand towards Kairi.

She takes it without hesitation—trust having grown inside their bones over the past year—racing with him through extravagant rooms until they catch a glimpse of a familiar figure, colliding against his back by going too fast.

 

Indignant, Ienzo turns around to face the culprits.

 

“Who are you?”

 

 

        They are bad jokes—the kind which draws a polite snicker for people—and downright unacceptable things such as _that_.

 

“I cannot believe you! My heart skipped a beat,” Kairi scolds as they are escorted back to the ship, as destroying free chips get you immediately evicted.

 

Rubbing the plaster on his forehead, as of course Lea hit him exactly where he was already injured, or else it wouldn’t have been as life-threatening, Ienzo doesn’t appear bothered by the weight of his words.

 

“The magical influence of this place has been affecting our reactions, I deemed a joke perfectly appropriate considering my mindset at the time.”

 

“ _At the time_? Dude, it was five minutes ago. Stop trying to convince us you didn’t find the whole thing hilarious.”

 

“Perhaps I did appreciate your reaction. Until your resorted to violence.”

 

“Well, you deserved that. Selling your so-valuable memories of us isn’t allowed, get it memorized?”

 

“Lea’s right, don’t go around saying that stuff. You didn’t even use one single chip…”

 

As they are abandoned in front of their ticket to the next traumatic experience, Ienzo seems to ponder over the implications of her words. It’s true that’s a proof of his resilience, as neither of them was able to resist the urge to waste the chips away. Even Xehanort—oh yeah, he was there too—ended playing along. That might have been a trap, considering the destroyer of worlds’ nature.

 

“Bliss to such extend—it felt unnatural, akin to a warning.”

 

“We’re relieved you’re such a gloomy disaster that you cannot have fun in a cursed casino, then.”

 

This time, they do not have to hide under a blanket for hours until their limbs cease to shake. Outside of a couple of complications—oh their belongings have been thrown inside the ship, so they are not lost—it was akin to having a fun rest. If grave danger is compulsory to a break. For them, that’s not a possibility they should rule out too fast.

 

“They even left some food and water to ensure we avoid returning any time soon, how kind of them.”

 

“Clean bandages too, I hope? All this running fucked up my leg.”

 

“Why did you run in the first place, since you are injured?”

 

“For the same reason you accepted to have dinner with your dead parents, if I had to give a lucky guess.”

 

“Hey guys? Fuck off,” Kairi offers, as helpful as she always is, hands clenched around the commands of the ship as if it were where she would always belong. She’s definitely right though, fighting can await until they are back floating in space.

 

At some point too, they’ll have to address the Xehanort problem—as spying on them means he reports back to someone else (who is probably still him to some extend, ah the joys of this whole war-like mess). Lea, while cleaning his wound, leans on his seat as if Kairi had ever heard about driving safely and wonders how this shit works. It’s kind of obvious magic is dimmed around there, kind of flickering. At least that’s how it is for theirs. If they go deeper though, will it affect or even cancel Xehanort’s powers? That would be hilarious. The great ruler of darkness, reduced to the same shitty mortal existence as any of them, he can’t wait for that.

 

“So what’s the next stop?”

 

“Not dying, I hope.”

 

“That sounds neat. Unheard of, yet cool. I’m up for it.”


	6. Ienzo - Raccoon City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disney worlds? Don't know them.  
> tw for zombies, violence in general

       Town ablaze, barricades everywhere, Ienzo can deal with that. The creatures—their lifeless eyes focused on him are filled with a familiarity he could do without. Of course, history is bound to behave this way, endless repetition of the same event, a reminder of who he is and what he has done. Frankly, all this hard work almost destroyed within seconds by a bunch of—oh zombies is kind of a gross name. The definition is far from perfect, flesh monsters behaving too erratically to care about the importance of such research. Ienzo is Even’s child—disgusting craving to tear flesh apart, to count abnormalities and keep them in jars—albeit without the actual mind to do more than keeping a safe distance.

 

The ship did not crash. It did not land properly either.

  
Another in-between, them having to abandon it outside of the town, getting past barricades to figure out what’s wrong with this place. Leaving without at least pretending to explore would turn them into pathetic travelers. Burning cars smell like gasoline and metal around him. 

 

The old adage of remaining close to each other was shattered by their own will, for once. Oh well, there was a truck exploding too, sliding on the ground so fast they had to step aside—he scraped knees and palms, nothing too impractical. Are the others alone to their own devices—caution, the voice supposed to whisper at the back of their heads, has never been as present as it should be, therefore he doesn’t count on that—should they attempt to regroup? The blaze seems to suggest to take another way, the shouts he heard too. If this world has decided to be a staged mess, then Ienzo has no choice but to comply.

 

He walks, shoulder against the wall, careful of each step. Broken glass have left an array of fragments on the ground, cars with blood-stained windows left without any sign of life. He had to press his fingers against his neck, to keep an eye on his pulse, of fear gnawing at his mind. That’s not the labs. It does offer a similar feeling, déjà-vu leaving his body less alert than it should be. All in black, he blends in the shadows enough to avoid being eaten by creatures he would have designed with a lesser level of horror. Are their clothes supposed to change that much when they visit another world? The previous times, nothing changed, thus why now? Has darkness managed to corrupt the magic at the core of their outfits? 

 

That’s less frustrating to ponder over that than accept to draw parallels between two nightmares. Regroup at the police station, one of them said? That would surely be an excellent plan, if not for the swarm of infected pressing themselves against the gates outside of the place. What is even a police station? He finds the words Raccoon Police, proudly engraved on the building, it's at least a clue. It frankly doesn’t answer anything though. Basic deduction skills allow him to decide that this town—half-burning, half-dead—is called Raccoon. Raccoon appears to be the unfortunate setting for some kind of apocalypse, possibly the birth of the end of this world. Thus the fact it has gotten lost on this side of the galaxy, swallowed in darkness alongside everything else. 

 

As Ienzo, deeply aware of the sounds around him—a car alarm going off, not that he is familiar with those either, beyond reports he read back in the Organization, but not all worlds are as backward as Radiant Garden regarding transport, also something is also chewing a person, who appears to be already deceased therefore it is not his problem—moves alongside the building to find a second opening, he is forcefully reminded of his own tragedy. That’s how it always ends up to be. More trauma, reminder of trauma, bla bla bla, as Lea would say, making a dismissing gesture. He sighs, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. The mark has healed nicely, barely a bruise, the edges slightly green, and he doesn’t bother with maintaining his scar hidden either.

 

(Cannibalism is happening. Really close.   
Unbelievable. ) 

 

There are quite uglier things around.  
Not even accounting for Xehanort, who is probably somewhere in this world, following them as instructed. 

 

A metallic door, too heavy to be lifted, appears in front of his gaze after a moment. Some—underground place? He notes a couple of cars on the other side, must be where people put them. Taking one and fleeing would be meaningless. After all, considering the amount of zombies and the level of destruction, there is almost no chance of making it out that way. He can't drive either. Fantastic, that’s exactly what he needed. Not that he would have returned back to the gummi ship, suddenly so far, without the others. 

 

“Hello?”

 

To say the voice causes him a heart attack is an understatement. If anything, Ienzo inhales sharply, back suddenly too straight.

 

“Greetings, not-zombie.”

 

The child (ah, what a delightful joke, a lone child lost in the midst of an apocalypse, exactly who he was) slowly steps forward, hands folded in front of her school uniform. She doesn’t appear to be on board with the whole disaster around her, but then appearances can be misleading. Ienzo grabs the metallic fence with one hand.

 

“They said the police station would be safe but it’s not.”

 

He doesn’t notice any infected on her side, while doesn’t mean they are not around, merely that he cannot find them among the abandoned cars. 

 

“My friends and I got separated, I believe they are inside.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” the kid says, and all he hears is ‘maybe they are dead like everybody else’.

 

An egregious reminder of how foolish Lea and Kairi can be—always are—is far from welcome. It’s all he gets though, that and an odd dryness in his mouth which cannot come only from a lack of water. 

 

“Can you unlock this door for me?”

 

Logic isn’t the forte of this world, as she crouches down to actually attempt to lift the metallic gate. Shockingly, this does not work leaving the kid confused about the situation. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so quick to judge, as the effects of such ordeal can be devastating. If one has to use their brain only to survive for a while, they have to disregard some functions to do so. That’s akin to shutting off some rooms during a fire to minimize the damage—not that he is sure that’s the right way to stop flames from spreading. He should inquire from Lea on that matter.

 

Craning his neck, he tries to peek inside.

 

“On your right, there is a panel, can you check it for me?”

 

“Oh, yes!” She gets up. “We need a keycard!”

 

_We._ Assimilation of his person to the unit they apparently form for the time being. Misplaced trust, possibly as a result of being alone for too long. Ienzo blinks, finding the meager light to be an annoyance. Perhaps, by focusing enough on his power, he can replicate the feeling of the key in the reader, which does not mean it’ll be accepted as genuine. That’s a gross misuse of illusions, especially as he isn’t certain that won’t simply be a waste of what’s left of his abilities without the lexicon. 

 

On the other hand, if he turns his head enough, he can spot the zombies slowly making their way towards him, taking away the possibility of a choice. 

 

Extending a hand through the mesh, he manages to reach for the card reader. Okay, the shape—that he can do. The exact size leaves to be desired, as he cannot twist his wrist further without hurting himself. 

 

  
         On the third attempt, as sweat is starting to appear against his palms, the reader chips happily, which is convenient as they have just enough time to lift the gate so Ienzo can squeeze underneath. He has no choice but to trap himself inside with the child, closing it right after, as many admirers are eager to take a piece of him on the other side. 

 

She doesn’t ask questions, in spite of her lips pursued together into an upset expression. Magic isn’t at the core of this world, which means nothing as they still have creatures nobody should be able to make without it. They sit in the parking for a while, enough time for Ienzo to glance at the evacuation plan on the wall. Truly the most useless junk he has ever seen, no matter how it shows him some parts of the precinct. 

 

“I’m Sherry.”

 

“Ienzo.”

 

“You’re not from Raccoon City, aren’t you?”

 

“You guessed well. I’m passing-by. A tourist caught up in the wrong thing at an unfortunate time.”

 

“That’s sad. I thought people would know—it has been this way for a couple of days. I was at school and then—I stayed a little, until—My parents told me I should come there in case of danger. But I have to hide because everyone had the same idea. It attracted them...”

 

Could be worse, like a hospital. The best place to stock on dead bodies until they wake up. That’s what happens, he supposes. People dying and then coming back up to this world after a while. The concept of zombies isn’t unheard of—once you remove someone’s heart, the body is basically an empty shell. Sometimes it dies, for others, it wanders around for a while, bumping into walls until it crumbles. At least, that’s some of the results they obtained. Ienzo wasn’t allowed to witness the whole process, although there was no need, when he could hear them hitting the walls of their cells for hours. On the bright side, the basement was soundproof from the outside, isn’t it grand?

 

“The point is to escape, or at least to regroup with the remaining survivors.”

 

“There aren’t many left.”

 

As he listens, wondering how to bring comfort to someone who isn’t him and thus didn’t deserve that—not that he did, it’s simply easier to avoid treating the child as a reminder of himself—Ienzo spots a door in a corner. They should go there, lingering in the same place for too long doesn’t sound clever. The zombies appear to answer to visual and audible stimulus, which mean they cannot be safe if one hears them talking in this big space.

 

“My friends are certainly tougher than I am, I won’t fret about their odds. As for the people before them, there was nothing you could have done. You survived, which is fairly impressive considering your age.” 

 

She doesn’t appear convinced, which he cannot do anything for. His long strand of hair has been replaced by three tights braids against the side of his head. An effect of his outfit switching to something appropriate for the setting. He touches them before deciding it would have gotten in the way otherwise. 

 

“We better find a hideout to plan the rest of our night,” he suggests, although that’s more of an order, stepping towards the door. On the way, before he even has the time to check the child is still there, his foot hits something. Oh, a flashlight. Probably belonged to a worker or something. It uses battery, and luckily they aren’t empty yet. “I guess some people get weapons and I am stuck with that.”

 

“I can guide you, I’m starting to have the place memorized, I think.

 

“That’s a relief,” if she notices the sarcasm, she avoids bringing it up.

 

  
         Sherry, it turns out, has little idea of what each room and hallway is for. She is aware of where the big bad monsters lurk, which is enough for them to avoid running into a bunch of zombies. That’s enough to Ienzo, who, in return, allows her to stand behind her, a hand grabbing the dark jacket he’s wearing. He casts illusions, weak ones of something human shaped in a corner, leading some monsters astray. She whispers to him, in an especially dark hallway where Ienzo doesn’t feel like turning the flashlight out, aware of what it could bring, about the purple pentagram on the back of his jacket. One with a big six in the middle of the star, she explains. Ah, at least whatever magic is controlling his outfit is respecting his aesthetic.

 

He asks questions, about the infected, the way they form, the time it takes. It’s obvious she would rather not answer them, even if she does nonetheless. Being treated as an ally rather than a burden often works well on children. He can confirm it. Each time Xehanort, not the one who is pursuing them, gave a glimpse of interest in his intellect he felt so validated—an adult, considering him to be his equal.

 

Nothing fosters misplaced trust like putting an unwanted child in the midst of adults unable to function without ruining everything around them.

 

“What about fire? Or acid? Complete destruction of the body should stop the virus from propagating, as damage to the brain appears to be inefficient on the long run,” he replies to Sherry’s explanation of a zombie being shot countless times getting back up minutes after, “they do appear to be able to function in stasis for while, as they are perfectly capable of getting up without choosing to do so until someone is close enough in some cases.”

 

“Then the brain—I thought everything happened in the brain, but if they are dead, there is no blood flowing, right? Organs need that to function.”

 

“Hm, perhaps it happens on a smaller scale. Specimens with limbs almost removed do appear to still push on them until they are fully severed, which means they can overcome the usual limits of the human body. As long as something is still connected, it’ll work.”

 

Pure speculation. 

 

“Acid must be hard to find, but we can make fire, right?”

 

“Indeed, although I would avoid setting a zombie on fire in the middle of a hallway. Unleashing a human torch in such close vicinity is more dangerous than it seems.”

 

“You talk like my mom and dad. They are scientists, are you too?”

 

“Definitely not, I’m merely in the same situation as you are,” he signs, “my father is also a man of science. I’m sure he would be delighted with this mess, albeit disappointed he has not managed to achieve something similar.”

 

“My parents—they aren’t bad, they wouldn’t cause something like this on purpose. Even if my dad... It's an accident, all of this."

 

“Obviously. It’s pretty easy for a project of such kind to slip off your fingers nonetheless. You let one subject escape and soon everyone is contaminated.”

 

Outside of them. 

 

" Why do you have a scar on your face? "

 

Ah, it has been a while since he has showed it to a stranger. That's—the lump in his throat has returned, treacherous.

 

"There are other monsters in the universe, outside of zombies." 

 

"Oh. I'd rather not meet them. I have enough problems." 

 

"The situation is far from ideal, I agree."

 

"I think it makes you look honest though. You don't hide it behind your hair, you show it proudly. That's strong, like you are standing up to whatever did that to you."

 

_That was myself_ , Ienzo wants to reply. That's nothing admirable in his magical outfit deciding for him. He doesn't bother replying, opting to hide his face against his knees instead.

 

" You're still pretty too," Sherry adds, tone hopeful.

 

He can't wait to tell that to Lea and Kairi. _You heathens never call me pretty_ , he'll complain.

 

          Their first—direct, real, not some mind game with illusions layered on top on genuine horror—encounter with a bunch of infected goes awry. It starts out somewhat like this:

 

A crawling one grabs Sherry’s ankle.  
She screams, which is perfectly understandable. Harder to forgive.  
In return, Ienzo turns on the flashlight to figure out what is attacking them.   
The beam of light attracts two more, and suddenly they are surrounded, unable to find an escape. By stomping, near hysteria, on the one holding her, Sherry manages to free herself, which is the sole good news. 

 

Ienzo’s powers, without the lexicon as a catalyst, are shaky in such situation, as he is letting panic overcome common sense. 

 

A flurry of teeth aims for the tender part of his throat, leaving Ienzo staggering back to avoid getting killed within seconds. Sherry is looking for an escape, a desperate expression in her eyes. She has not given up yet, in spite of the apparent lack of solution. Outrunning them doesn't seem like the smartest choice, especially at the narrow room probably won't give them enough time to reach the hallway.

 

The deranged creature the closest to him lurges forward again, Ienzo unsure of what to do with his limbs. He falls on his side to avoid the bite. Two of the zombies trip over each other, ending tangled up on the floor. Pushing on his palm and the flashlight he is still holding, Ienzo gets back on his feet. He notes the desk, breathing so fast the sound covers Sherry's voice.

 

He grabs a box cutter laying on top of unopened packages, the blade ridiculous once he gets it out. Impossible to reach for the blob of flesh inside the skull, yet the zombie is still advancing. A part of him hopes that Sherry will use that time wisely—she should get out when she still can.

 

At the last second, Ienzo pushes the boxes off the desk, distracting the zombie long enough to sprint around them. He lits the blade, aiming for the back of the neck—the kind of move Even would encourage, respecting the weakness of the human body—slicing as deep as he can. Blood oozes from the wound, which is weird since the zombie is meant to be dead. It splatters on his clothes, the face too not that Ienzo has the time to be bothered about that right now. The zombie lets out a grunt, bile and blood foaming at the corner of his mouth as he tries to turn his head. Refusing to allow it to recover, Ienzo throws the flashlight in Sherry's direction, using both hands to raise the blade inside the skull. It doesn't work as well as expected, fingers covered in fluids and slippery. Eventually, because he isn't allowed to die right away, the creature falls head first on the floor, the box cutter sticking out his head. 

 

He almost forgets the two still on the floor until a hand grabs his sleeve, tugging him towards the door. Oh, Sherry. She seems fine. Appropriately disgusted, yet still standing. The pungent smell follows them as they run, seeking shelter in another part of the station.

 

  
       That won't do. He washes his hands numerous times, glaring at the pathetic sink used to wash (he guesses?) photographs, a process he is not familiar with. Sherry is sitting on the floor, playing with the flashlight with childish innocence. She is following the beam on the ceiling as she twirls it in the air. He envies her, having to remove blood off his face, a faint line remaining across his cheek. 

 

"Maybe you can find a gun?" 

 

He thinks of Braig, of him hitting cans thrown in the air for no other reason than to show off—it's not a pleasant memory. Earlier, when he complained about getting the flashlight, he wasn't that bothered.

 

"I have no affinity for those, nor I enjoy fighting directly in the first place." 

 

"You prefer your tricks?" 

 

"Illusions, yes. Not tricks." 

 

She doesn't reply, perhaps to avoid being mean. He looks at her bruised knees and the flashlight she holds like a treasure—ah, guilt is bitter isn't it? A revolting emotion he cannot cast away. That's why he sits next to her, arms crossed over his knees. 

 

"I have no mean to ensure your safety, therefore we should increase our search operation to find my friends."

 

She doesn't reply right away, weighting the flashlight between her hands.

 

"I wanted to find my mom. She is down here—in the labs."

 

"Is it common, the whole layout of this place, nonsensical at best, and the labs underneath the place where the ones in charge of order are working?" 

 

His fingers are shaking, thus he hides them underneath his knees, glaring in front of him. That's not fair, to play the same scenario twice under different names. It's excruciating, to maintain his composure. He has gotten better at dealing with the aftermath, to accept what happened little by little. Giving names to experiments who had lost them, working with Kairi to honor her grandmother. Still, right now, as he is fighting back tears, he has to admit there is still a long way to go.

 

"I have only lived here so I can't tell. My parents, they give me secrets to keep, without explaning them." 

 

"Typical of adult figures."

 

"You won't help me?" 

 

"An underground facility where the virus probably spread isn't exactly where we should head, in my opinion." 

 

"Where else can we go?" 

 

She isn't wrong. The city seems ravaged, and leaving the police station would turn into a disaster. It's not even his story anyway. Ienzo was in the labs when the tragedy happened, unfortunate beginning. It was a planned consequence, written down on Xehanort's agenda probably.

 

  
        Sherry hands him the flashlight back as they make their way back to the parking. On the way, they do not meet anybody, outside of a fire who stops them from going farther into the station. Well, that's a problem for later. At least it confirms their choice—no other solution. It does feel scripted, once again, and Ienzo has to chase shadows dancing in the corners of his eyes. 

 

It has been a while since his mind played tricks on him. Then, the whole world with the joyful dinner party with his fake-parents didn't bring comfort. He feels paranoid, walking on unsteady floor in the midst of pipes which might hide more monsters. He isn't certain of where the entry to the labs is, neither does Sherry. She is following, her shoes echoing against metal, holding out her breath when she steps too forcefully. 

 

When they find a collapsed—pillar? Bookcase? He cannot tell from their angle—they push it together,  Sherry puffing her cheeks as if it could help. Perhaps, had Ienzo done the same, his shoulder wouldn't ache. The light is on around there, turning the place into not such a disaster. They have to be careful though. 

 

That turns out to be truly vital when they hear something from afar, a loud grunt which sounds familiar to Sherry as she freezes, eyes wide. 

  
She tugs on his arm, alert visible in her body. They should hide, she seems to instruct and he allows her to drag him in a corner, which is ironically where the moved the pillar off the way minutes before. They put it back to hide, Ienzo wondering if he should ask what is happening. 

 

"That's him," she confesses before he is able to say anything, "if he sees you, you'll be hurt, so be quiet."

 

"What should I expect?" 

 

"My dad."

 

For children not raised in a haunted house, this wouldn't be terrifying. Here though, as he smells something heavy and rotten in the air—Sherry holding onto his arm like a lifeline, he does feel worried at best. Enough to lower himself even more, free arm around her shoulders. With an illusion strong enough, he could make them invisible... Perhaps. 

 

This kid and him have been together for what? Five hours? That's enough to create a bond, apparently. Before, he wouldn't have been able to care, too distanced from anything able to remind him of what happened to him. Now however, he cannot imagine running and leaving Sherry behind. 

 

Even as he spots the giant eye staring into his soul, inhuman creature approaching, he tightens his embrace. 

 

"Hey, you! Leave them alone!" 

 

Out of nowhere, a familiar voice grabs everyone's attention. And they all turn around—except for the guresome eye on the monster's arm which remains on him—Kairi lifting her gun with both hands, right before pressing the trigger. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo: I've had Sherry for less than one day but if anything happened to her I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.


	7. Kairi - Raccoon City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to unfortunate circumstances I'm writing on my phone this week and that's challenging... Thanks for reading!

       Crawling under the shuttered door was a mistake. Sure, that was compulsory, or else they would have been stuck in the main hall, doors locked and no place to head next. There is a tremor running through her legs now, making her steps wobbly. The woman catches her when she stumbles one or twice, saying 'it'll be fine'. After a while though, she simply offers a strained smile as to confirm she has no choice but to get on with whatever is happening.

  
Then, there is the officer, the one who doesn't make it in one piece. Kairi tugs at her leggings, black underneath her shorts—she has no luxury to marvel at the novelty of the new outfit. Not when there is a body at their feet and they have to go back.

  
"I really hope my brother is safe," Claire whispers to herself as she steps in front of Kairi.

  
The Keyblade, if it could be summoned here—unlikely—wouldn't do anything against the walking corpses all around. The light of this world is so fickle that Kairi struggles to breathe properly.

  
"Is he supposed to be there?"

  
"Yeah, his name's Chris. Member of S.T.A.R.S., it's an elite devision of Raccoon City. I'm sure he got busy with what happened here... And honestly I shouldn't worry too much. After all, he''s the one who taught me to shot, I trust him." 

  
"That sounds... Interesting."

  
Guns—these are not common, nor normal where she's from. Being polite is all she can offer, to focus on something other than this mess. It does not last, the beginning of their conversation cut off by a blur of decayed flesh rushing at them. She doesn't scream, although her body freeze from the inside, ice in her veins. Again, that's Claire—could be Sora, or Lea, it would be the same—who has to drag her to safety as they run back to the shuttered door.

 

          Marvin and her have an argument.

  
He saves them and, right after, Kairi is sitting by his side on the bench, glaring at the ugly blotches of red on the side of his body. 

  
"That would be a waste of supplies, I'm accounted for."

  
"If it makes you last long enough for us to get out—to find a way to fix this, it's worth the effort."

  
Hope is sparce in this world, an obscene concept Raccoon City's citizens cannot afford to indulge in, or else they'd be destroyed once it's gone. She pushes anyway, certain that no one else will. First aid kit in her hands, she forces it—not quite a peace offering—into Marvin's, the sole apparent survivor from the station, until he relents.

  
That's enough.

  
Her mind tunes the following conversation out, unable to pursue further without a break. Something about escaping by finding medaillons.

  
"Press your head against your knees if you're dizzy," Claire offers, and she does that.

  
"Sorry, I'm good. Just need a moment."

  
Was it like that, in Radiant Garden? Fire and survivors scattered in corners, no escape found anywhere. Tears prickles at her eyes ; that's a fragment long lost she doesn't wish to retrieve. By  pushing on her knees she gets up, her smile as unsure as her body.

 

         Claire shows her many things. How to cover windows with planks, or to crouch down behind desks and other things to remain out of sight. This way they avoid running out of bullets. Frankly, Kairi believes she is as not-bothersome as she can until she opens a locker. The corpse falls forward, close to trapping her on the ground if not for Claire dragging her on the side at the last second.

  
"Sorry—I didn't think."

  
Why does it happen every time? This weakness in her bones, fierce spirit will clashing with—it cannot be a result of a childhood she is not able to remember. Then, what has caused this? In the previous world, before the casino, she managed to be faster than fear, to defend herself. She draws lines, trails of failure ans comparisons she shouldn't be obsessed with. Ienzo and Lea being as traumatized yet able to stand firm—that's a lie, she is unfair. Darkness twirls in the pit of her stomach, the feeling disgusting yet far from evil. Something about balance, accepting difficult thoughts rather than throwing them in a corner until they grow into a monster she cannot control.

  
"I'll make sure we get out of there alive."

  
She bites her lower lip, shaking her head.

  
"I don't want to drag you down—not again." 

  
Ah, it's obvious she isn't talking about the current situation, isn't it?

  
"Give me your hands."

  
"Why?"

  
She blinks as the woman slides her gun between her hands, adjusting her grip for a moment. The weapon is not as heavy as she thought it would be. The barrel seems difficult to fill during a fight, bullets having to be inserted while dodging. One or twice, she managed to distract monsters enough by throwing something in a random direction, offering enough time for Claire to reload. That's the best she managed to do until that point.

  
"Don't fire, would be a waste, but we are going to work on aiming and such. Once I find a second weapon, you can have this one."

  
Kairi must appear bewildered, as Claire chuckles softly.

  
"I get it, you're like me, little sister and all. Someone has to show you the ropes."

  
That would be easy to argue, to be revolted at her training being thrown aside as if it were a mere dream, nothing solid. She has the bitter impression that's the case. She learned more with Lea and Ienzo than when she was confined to a tower and its surroundings, told to dodge harmless creatures. Against zombies, if she isn't alert enough, it's death who is going to greet her.

  
"Everyone always wants to protect me. They don't ask for my opinion," Kairi rambles, ashamed of her lack of control over her tongue.

  
"Yeah, that's how it is. That's why you have to show them—in fact, you should show yourself first. Hold the gun tighter, and then lift it to aim."

  
As Claire maneuvers her hands, showing how to take into account a surprise attack, as the corpse laying face down next to them, Kairi is suddenly too aware of the metal warming against her palms. 

  
"What if I shoot the wrong thing, in blind panic I could hit you—" 

  
"If there is a zombie trying to rip my arm off, shoot. Once you're bitten, you're gone, so I'm willing to trust you. Like I do with Leon. We'll meet outside of this mess, once we find the remaining medaillons. Then I'll find Chris." 

  
If she is trying to convince both of them, it's working. For a while, Kairi asborbs the attention she hasn't received enough, a bright spark of courage in her gaze. They better hurry and find Claire a better gun so she can carry this one.

  
"Thank you, for taking the time to teach me." 

  
"We're in this together, and having someone to protect my back isn't something I'm going to refuse. Some of these zombies are..." 

  
"The ones in dark hallways, with the tongues and weird bodies..."

  
"Kai, let's not mention these right now. I'm fine thinking they do not exist when I don't have to face them."

  
"Me neither. What else can you teach me?" 

  
"Oh, eager?" Claire grins, taking the gun back. Her expression is strained, although she is definitely hiding as much of it as possible. "I have a motorbike you would love, I had to leave it behind though."

  
On an impulse, Kairi almost opts to confess she is also a pilot—of another kind.

Motorbikes weren't that common on the islands although there were some on the mainland. Loud and fast, that fits Claire. She cannot explain the gummi ship thus she hums in reply.

  
"Tell me more about it. Stories!" 

  
"Sure." 

  
Some would claim remaining there without progressing with the quest is a waste of time. Kairi begs to differ. She finally feels well enough to go on. 

 

          Although her outfit is almost entirely black, there are pink neon lines on the hood and at the bottom of her short jacket. She gets enough time to contemplate them when they come across a mirror. She does her best to avoid taking into account blood splattered on her shoes from a persistant licker refusing to leave them alone. 

  
The gun has been hers for a while, a gift she couldn't refuse when Claire managed to get another. For now, her shaky aim weakened three zombies and neutralized one licker, although it might have been one of Claire's bullet for the latter. Not wasting ammunition necessitates for Kairi to think before each pull on the trigger, which sounds simple in theory. In practice, that's downright above her level. 

  
One medaillon was already inserted in the statue when they returned to deliver the two they found and Marvin, unable to stand down any longer, tells them about Leon and a boy with red hair which can only be Lea. 

  
(Kairi still worries about Ienzo although he is the most familiar with that kind of setting.)

  
As a secret passage—this is definitely not how a police station should have been built, this is worse than the World That Never Was—opens for them, Kairi considers their problems to be mostly over.

  
The guys will come back here at some point, after all. 

  
That's until she hears a gurgling sound behind them. Followed by Marvin coming back to life. Except, obviously, he is long gone. They chatted on a couple of occasions, upon coming back to switch weapons or items. And he was there until the end. 

  
"Kairi get down, I'll join you! Quick!"

  
She runs, gun still strapped to her leg, in a holster they found on the way—or rather on a body, she doesn't dwell on that—finding the evelator and ignoring everything else. Claire will join her, that's something Kairi is willing to believe in. Once the metal cage is descending, adrenaline following, she regrets obeying the order. 

  
What if Claire gets bitten—this did not happen, up to that point. Even during the long hours during which they explored the building, when zombies ran at her with the clear intend of murder. Once she is standing in complete silence downstairs, all she can do is sending the elevator back up. She waits for one minute or two before deciding she might me more useful by scouting her surroundings. 

  
"This world is corroded to an impressive level."

  
Oh, a guest. She glares at Xehanort, sitting cross-legged on construction materials in a corner of the room. That's funny, her clothing shouldn't adapt to darkness, yet it does, and here he is, still wearing that silly coat. 

  
"Eaten from the inside, you could say." 

  
She isn't in the mood to humor him, a jest with this disaster bounds to end tragically. There is an itch against her leg nonetheless. The holster offering her a gun and a world full of possibilities. 

  
"You should be mindful of your steps, going forward without a guardian is quite odd for a princess." 

  
"Don't you know about that more than me?" 

  
Being reduced to a puppet to please an older version of herself would be unbearable, she is certain of that much. Rather than entertaining this sudden argument, Xehanort flickers his wrist, probably to summon a portal.

  
He repeats the gesture, only to be met with silence.

  
"Aren't you supposed to be one with darkness or something?" 

  
"Darkness—is not a mere concept, it holds different meanings, you wouldn't understand."

  
"Sure, if you say so. How long have you been in the basement, waiting company?" 

  
"Not very long, or else I would have realized that slight disadvantage." 

  
She hears footsteps, heavy albeit form afar, before she can reply. That's the kind of situation where waiting for Claire should be the sole option. Except—Kairi follows her predecessors footsteps, mistaking confidence for a complete disregard of common sense. There is no difficulty in holding the gun, stepping in a hallway made of metal pipes. 

  
However, she only takes a couple of footsteps, unsure of Xehanort being behind her or not—he might be bored of watching—before catching a glimpse of people running to hide on the other side of metallic platforms. 

  
Ienzo! Relief is swept away within seconds, the sound from earlier belonging to something else entirely. The catwalk seems stable enough, until the creature steps on it.   
Must have been a human being—akin to the others—although the concept is severely impaired by the vision in front of her. The thing, gigantic, arm grotesque on its side, is heading towards the corner, behind the fallen cabinet, to reach for its prey. 

  
There is someone else, next to Ienzo, huddled against him, barely visible.

  
The monster is eager to grab either of them, starting to reach out with its inhuman hand.   
That's the exact moment where Kairi, fool extraordinaire, decides to grab her weapon. 

  
"Hey you!" Such confidence she doesn't have! "Leave them alone!" To focus on her instead? 

  
Apparently that's the plan she started, considering the slow spin of the creature. It takes a moment to observe her posture, as to ponder over humanity and the consequences of ripping someone apart. 

  
Then, it lunges forward. 

 

       The merry ride on the catwalk is terrifying, the machinery room offering little reprieve as she turns around to shoot blindly from time to time. Is she even hurting the monster? It doesn't feel this way as she slips into narrow passages, shoulder hitting her unfortunate companion every time. 

  
"You had to startle it, obviously. How else would we have been chased to our death otherwise?"

  
Well, she did not expect Xehanort to have followed her so closely. Honestly, that's his fault for not stepping back in the shadows before the mutated human turned around, radiating killing intend. 

  
Once fog envelops the area, she gets disoriented, weapon getting slippery in her moist palms as she frantically turns her head around. Against her back, Xehanort is breathing as heavily as she, glaring at their surroundings. 

  
"Your mastery of guns is utterly deplorable, so is everything else about your methods—" 

  
"Could you, kindly, shut up! Do you see it?" 

  
"I would already be running if I had spotted it," he snarls, probably wishing he could rip the gun off her hands to do better. Doubtful since he has not tried to do so. Ah, the fierce keyblade wielder hasn't gotten much experience with that kind of weapon, hm?

Well, neither has she. 

  
No warning is issued before the thing jumps down on them, causing Xehanort to swear and Kairi to—oh her throat refuses to cooperate, she cannot only push on her legs to avoid getting crushed. She shoots while focusing on the abnormal eye on the arm, offering enough time to Xehanort so he can rush past her. What a fantastic ally, she tells herself to cover the constant screaming in her head. 

  
Oh back onto the catwalk. It winces and resonnates against her ears as she sprints, until she collides against Xehanort in a corner, the mist still not fully dissipated. In retrospect, she realizes when the monster jumps behind them, they should have taken into account the area a little bit better.   
Metal creaks and bends underneath the group, Kairi pushing bullets inside the barrel while letting two falling between her feet, off the catwalk, and then into nowhere. Later, she'll care. 

  
Right now, she is too busy aiming for what might be the last time. She presses the trigger, ignoring how her hands are shaking.   
The creature lets out a rage-filled sound, stepping back only to topple over the railway a couple of feet away. A miracle, truly. Before she can turn around, or even suggest they walk back carefully into a safer zone, two things happen at once. 

  
First, she hears Claire's voice in the distance, calling our for her. Relief washes over her body for approximately five seconds, until the catwalk brutally collapses under her.

  
She drops the gun to grab—in a jerky move she does not calculate—the stable part of the catwalk,  arm colliding with metal. It's painful, a wave of erratic signals going through her mind as her free hand is wrapped around—

  
"I did not ask for you to save me!" 

  
Letting go of Xehanort's wrist is tempting. Mostly because she lacks the strength to keep both of them safe for too long. Still, Kairi loathes giving up more than anything. Thus she grits her teeth, squeezing the metal until it starts lacerating her palm. 

  
Claire's footsteps are echoing closer, and for a moment she is allowed to hope. 

  
Just enough to catch a glimpse of her face before her arm has to abandon this battle. Someone screams. Maybe it's her. Or Claire. Even Xehanort is a possibility.

  
She closes her eyes.

 

 

         She crashes against something wet—it crumbles under her, and it takes her a moment to realize it's a cardboard box, among other trash, the kind she isn't eager to look at. Urg, pain is jolting through her arm. Kairi must not strain herself right now, she has to return to Claire and Ienzo. Next to her, a low grunt gets her attention. 

  
"You saved yourself, probably." 

  
"Refrain form adressing me for the time being." 

  
As if she wanted to talk with that idiot. The water, putrid and opaque, doesn't allow reprieve. Kairi tries to breathe through her mouth, the pungent smell leaving her dizzy. Or that's the brutal crash. Her arm is too sore for her to move it properly, thus she cradles it against her chest. 

  
There are gashes on Xehanort's coat, must have resulted from the fall, as the creature grabbing either of them would have resulted into gore—getting bashed against a wall, or ripped apart, limb after another—no possible way to escape. 

  
Shoulders slumped, the boy—not much older than her, the frown on his face far from a welcoming sign—hesitates for a long time before unzipping the coat. It's too tattered to go on, one sleeve almost cut off. 

  
Fingers press against the top of her head, as Kairi feels the beginning of a headache building inside her skull. The skin is tender, slightly swollen. Oh, she must have collided with something else. As she hums, rubbing her thumb against the bruise, she hears a moan. A raspy one, too deep to belong to either of them. 

  
For one second, they glance at each other in silence, and then in what is the most impressive cooperation ever seen between them, they start to climb over the trash to move as silently as possible within the sewers. They have to leave that damn tunnel before whatever is behind them—

  
Hey, that's Claire's gun! It's laying on a bunch of boxes and floating trash bags, untouched. She immediately reaches forward, careful to hold it above water level so it doesn't get damaged. Or lost. She cannot even tell where her shoes are. She dreads walking forward, as her feet press on suspicious oddities—the kind which could drag her under if she isn't careful. 

  
The moans get louder, a melody following them with the upmost care. Her free hand is trembling,  damp leggings uncomfortable against her legs. They need to find an escape route, some ladder to climb to safety. 

  
"Do not daydream," Xehanort hisses while turning around. She awaits for the following insult, only lifiting her gaze at the following silence. He seems—uneasy would be an understatement. "You must run, now." 

  
The instruction is so low she barely hears it. Deep breath, what's behind her? She catches a glimpse of the—what the fuck is that—by slightly turning her head. 

  
The alligator, polite until that point, is fed up with the dramatic atmosphere, opening its mouth wide. Is it yawning or threatening them? She sure doesn't want to stay around to have an answer. 

  
Kairi is already staggering forward, Xehahort suddenly pointing at a ladder not too far in the tunnel. Great—can get reach it in time?   
They have to. 

 

On the bright side, no one died.   
On the slightly less positive side, the alligator almost took a bite of them and now their clothes are reeking of the sewers. She counts the remaining bullets in her pocket and in the gun, compulsively. Twelve, that's—definitely not enough. 

  
Back against Xehanort's, Kairi cranes her neck to glance at the usually insufferable guy.

  
"Wanna call a truce?"

  
"That's the sole reasonable idea I've heard tonight. More convenient than darkness betraying me."

  
"Can I ask something about that?" 

  
"I suppose I could indulge your mediocre knowledge of this world and curiosity." 

  
She nudges him in the back with the arm which doesn't feel like jelly. Her hand has stopped bleeding although she needs to clean it later. 

  
"Why do these creatures attack you too?" 

  
"As I mentioned earlier, darkness has many forms. The Organization isn't familiar with this specific one, thus how uncomfortable I am."

  
"I'm sure that being reduced to an average person must be tough."

  
"I'm far from average." 

  
"Less talking more... Walking," she suggests without moving. Five more minutes on the floor. 

 

        The water purification room makes sense in theory, she understands how it's meant to work. Otherwise, she would have to listen to Xehanort explaining details about this too—he seems like the type to crush others with his knowledge for fun. Or she is simply cranky from lack of sleep. Probably both. 

  
The atmosphere is heavy, as if something was meant to happen, although not to them. As they walk through the place, glaring at any sign of infected, Kairi holding her gun more loosely than she'd like to, they eventually end up in front of a cable car. 

  
"Where does this even go?"

  
"To NEST." 

  
"What's that?" 

  
Xehanort's expression is thoughtful as he watches the 'visitor, access denied' message flickering above them. 

  
"While you strolled leisurely upstairs, I got time to explore and read various documents. NEST appears to be a program akin to the apprentices in Radiant Garden, albeit with more ressources." 

  
"That's a lab then?" 

  
"Likely."

  
She inhales sharply, glancing around the cable car. If they find a body—she is slowly getting on board with everyone being dead, or rather that she cannot save people who are already gone—perhaps it'll have a card or something to allow them to get inside. Xehanort appears to understand her point. He's wearing dark clothes which must be a chore for the chill weather, tank top showing off a single scar on an arm. It doesn't seem to be the result of a cut, more like blunt force. 

  
As he catches her staring, he shrugs without an explanation. That's not like she wanted one anyway. Isn't it easy to appear foolish, opening her mouth when she has nothing to offer outside of chatter to fill the emptiness around her? Tiredly, she slumps down, back against the cable car. 

  
"Here," she opens one eye after what might have been one minute or five hours, as Xehanort—what an odd name, sounding made up, letters adding up awkwardly—hands her a bracelet. She notices dried blood on it, obviously. Although she has no reason to mention it out loud. Instead she gets up, aware he won't offer his hand, lifting it in front of the door. It opens, slowly, offering a one-way ticket to the end of the world. 

  
Down they go, she supposes. 

  
After pushing the lever, starting the descent, she walks around the car, finding bottled water in an emergency box, alongside a cereal bar she munches on without strength. Eat, chew, swallow, repeat. She cleans her palm, bandaging the hand and deciding she cannot do much for the rest of the arm right now. She then sits, of rather collapse, on the metallic bench, watching as Xehanort roams through the box once she has walked away.

   
"What should we expect down there?" 

  
"Nothing enjoyable. For what I gathered, they attempted a project beyond their control and are suffering appropriate consequences."

  
"And the civilians caught in this mess, do they deserve that?" 

  
"You do not need me to answer that." 

  
Ah, for once he's right.   
She wants to sleep, right now. 

 


End file.
